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A SON OF CAROLINA 


By 

GENIE ORCHARD STOVALL 


NEW YORK AND WASHINGTON 

THE NEALE PUBLISHING COMPANY 
1909 






Copyright, 1909, by 
GENIE ORCHARD STOVALL 


A Son of Carolina 


CHAPTEE I 

‘‘Hyar’s yo’ crab passen^ by! She crab, fat 
crab jes ’ out de water. Buy my crab ! ^ ’ 

This droning wail, with its far-reaching twang, 
has been a familiar sound in Charleston for 
nearly two centuries. It breaks the drowsy still- 
ness of the early morn, is heard at noon, and its 
echoes do not die away until after nightfall ; yet 
its insistent harshness carries a homely charm 
that is melody to the ears of the inhabitants of 
this quaint old Southern city, who would as soon 
silence it as hush the vocal plaint of the catbird 
or the incessant chatter of the sapphire-winged 
jay. But in the morning of a certain bright 
April day one of the oldest and best known 
venders who thus hawked her wares along the 
foliage-canopied streets was peremptorily si- 
lenced. 

Auntie Bloom, as she was known to everybody 
in this part of the city, was making her accus- 
tomed rounds, just as she had made them unmo- 
lested for nearly half a century. On her head, 
which was covered by a straw hat, she balanced 
a huge hamper basket of crabs, the merits and 


8 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


freshness of which she was proclaiming with 
enthusiasm. As she turned into her favorite 
beat, where, as she was wont to to express it, 
‘ ‘ de quality white buckra lib on de Batt ’ry, ^ ^ she 
raised her voice with zest and renewed her cry, 
‘ ‘ Hyar ^s yo ^ crab passen ’ by. She crab ^ ^ 

At this juncture a stern command came from 
the house just above her head: ^‘Hush your 
noise and pass on. Be quick 

The aged negress with a sudden start paused 
and looked up, as she ejaculated: ‘‘Who dat! 
Who dat say Auntie Bloom mus’ hesh her mout’ 
an^ shet up? Whar’s yo? Who’s yo? I ax.’’ 
And with a scowl of offended dignity she looked 
about curiously. 

“It was I who ordered you to pass on. You 
are entirely too noisy,” said General Alston 
Manning as he stepped out upon the veranda of 
his mansion. 

“Oh, I see, sar; yas, sar, mauster. It’s yo’, 
sar; I’s gwine,” and with a low curtsy, as the 
scowl left her face, she muttered “ ‘Scuse me, 
sar,” and hobbled away as fast as she could. 

“Bless de Lord, what ail de gineral today? 
All dese y’ars I been pass dis do’, an’ nebber 
befo’ is he shet me up. He always say, ‘Good 
mornin’. Aunty; how de fish today?’ An’ now 
he tell me ‘shet up an’ go ’long.’ Yas, Lord, I 
been sell de oyster an’ de crab, an’ de shrimp, 
an’ de roe shad, an’ de strawberry an’ de orange, 
an’ de Lord only know what I ain’t sell in dis 
street, an’ nebber is I been tole to shet my mout’ 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


9 


till dis day. Well, Brudder Zion he ’lowed dat 
de judgment day was sure gwine come, an’ I 
b ’lebe him now. ’ ’ 

Her soliloquy ended, she glanced back, then 
opened wide her mouth and with renewed vocal 
strength advertised her ‘Hresh crabs jes’ out de 
water. ’ ’ 

General Manning, in the mean time, stood with 
folded arms and looked out toward the sea. He 
was tall and straight, with the imperious mien 
of the patrician. A scornful melancholy brooded 
over his face. Evidently he was trying to coerce 
his will and dominate some painful emotion. 
But, whatever may have been his musings, they 
were interrupted by an old negro, who slowly 
ascended the steps, and doffing his crumpled 
wool hat, bowed low as he placed upon the floor 
a box of tools. 

At yo’ service, mauster.” 

A spasm of pain passed over General Man- 
ning’s face. 

‘H’s ready, sar,” repeated the negro. 

‘‘Yes, yes, Cato,” General Manning said, as 
he pointed to the door, upon which was fastened 
a massive plate with his name carved thereon, 
“unscrew that plate.” 

With a look of mute interrogation the servant 
glanced first at the door and then at his master, 
but did not stir. For the first time in all the 
long years of faithful service, Cato refused to 
obey liis former owner. His head dropped low 


10 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


and the expression of his face was serious. Sud- 
denly he looked up. 

‘^Please sar, mauster, tell me what all dis 
mean? Lately I see somethin’ goen’ on un- 
usual. I see strange folk come an’ look at de 
house. I see Miss Helen hah a gr’ebed look on 
her face, an’ yo’, mauster, ain’t been yo’self. 
You look troubled an’ narvous, an’ yo’ holler so 
at Aunty Bloom dat she mos ’drap her fish all 
over de groun’, an’ she go skip, skop down de 
street.” 

A merry gleam lit up the wrinkled face for a 
moment, and the beady eyes twinkled with 
amusement as he continued : 

‘‘Tell me, mauster, what gwine to take place 
now? Yo’ order me to remobe de plate dat has 
been on dis do’ since yo’ an’ me was young, 
when yo’ brung ole missus home as yo’ bride. 
Eber since dat day I’s been yo’ sarvant, an’ rain 
or shine I polish dat plate. I rub till I see my 
face lookin’ back at me. I been shinin’ dis do’- 
plate all dese years, an’ now yo’ say I mus’ take 
hit off. Po de Lord sake, mauster, tell Cato 
what does dis mean ? ’ ’ 

The question was put humbly, and with an 
appeal which General Manning could not resist. 

“Yes, Cato, you have the right to know, and 
I will tell you. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ T ’ank yo ’, sar, ’ ’ answered the old man, strik- 
ing his characteristic attitude when listening to 
something he deemed important; his head on 
one side slightly elevated, and the balls of his 


A SON OP CAROLINA 


11 


eyes rolled cornerwise so as to be almost invis- 
ible, while with one hand he tugged at the fringe 
of beard beneath his throat. 

^ ^ Cato, ^ ’ continued General Manning, ‘ ^ I have 
dreaded the time when I must tell yon that your 
master is a poor man. I do not own even this 
house ; it has been sold under a mortgage. This 
door-plate is all that I can claim of what has 
been my home for more than fifty years and was 
the home of my father before me. Cato, you 
deserve to know all, for you have been a good 
and faithful servant to me. You saw a hundred 
slaves desert their master, but you stood by me 
and your mistress. Your skin is dark, but your 
heart and principles are as white as that mar- 
ble,’’ and he pointed to the broad white steps. 

^ ^ Cato, you will go with me wherever I go, and 
my last crust shall be shared with you. Remem- 
ber this. ’ ’ 

The old negro listened in silence as he clutched 
the stone coping for support. His big, lean 
frame shook and he steadied himself and sat 
upon the steps. 

‘‘Po’ mauster, po’ young missus; Lordy! 
Lordy! hab marcy,” he moaned, wagging his 
gray head to and fro. 

^ ‘ Give me the tools, Cato ; I will remove the 
plate,” said the general, trying to control his 
voice. 

^‘Not so, mauster,” exclaimed the negro, ris- 
ing. ^ Hf it mus ’ be done, I ’s de proper one to do 
it, sar. ’ ’ And, without further remonstrance, he 


12 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


knelt before the door and began to unloose the 
screws from the plate, as General Manning, with 
bowed head and folded arms, moved away. 

At that moment a young woman crossed the 
broad hall and stood beside him. Her face was 
white and calm and a peculiar softness was in 
her dark eyes. Her father held out his hand to 
her without a word, and together they watched 
Cato at work. Had father and daughter looked 
down upon the coffin lid that was closing over a 
loved one they could not have watched with a 
more intense or more melancholy interest as the 
black clumsy fingers unscrewed the plate from 
the door. 

The air was saturated with sunshine and fra- 
grance. The sparrows twittered in the oleander 
hedges, and mocking-birds whistled and mocked 
the laughter of children in the streets, while the 
grating sound of the rusty screws made a 
strange dissonance. The last screw fell, and 
with a grunting effort old Cato arose and handed 
his master the plate. 

Father,’^ exclaimed Miss Manning, ‘^this 
cannot be taken from us.^’ She held the plate 
at arms ’ length and gazed at it proudly. ‘ Ht is 
a grand old name, is it not? We will put this 
on the door of our home, even though it be a 
plain little place. After all, father dear, it is 
the name that honors the house and not the 
house the name. Why, a palace could not make 
this name more honorable, and, in my opinion, a 
hovel with it becomes distinguished. Oh, yes, 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


13 


we must always keep this bright just as we have 
kept it for generations, and Uncle Cato will pol- 
ish it brighter than ever before, won^t you. 
Uncle CatoU^ 

‘^Now lis^n at de chile,’’ replied Cato, pucker- 
ing his mouth and looking sideways at his young 
mistress. ‘‘Yo’ know yo’ ole sarvant gwine do 
his duty till de Good Lord call him home. But, 
young missus, I tell yo’ de blessed truf, it’s 
gwine mighty agin my principle an’ feelin’s to 
see dat do ’-plate nailed on any udder house, 
much less a cottage house like de po’ buckra lib 
in. It ain’t got no right on any do’ ’cept dis 
one hyar,” and he emphasized his speech by 
striking the door with his out-stretched hand. 

‘^My brave daughter,” spoke the general, 
‘‘we will go to our humble home and try to en- 
dure our changed circumstances like Christians 
and philosophers; but Cato is right — I do not 
think I should ever like to see this plate on any 
other house.” 

“See dat! Ain't I say so!” Cato interrupted 
authoritatively. ‘ ‘ N ow, mauster, I want ’r ax one 
more question ’fo’ I go — who’s name’s gwine 
on our do ’ r ’ 

“No name to disgrace it, Cato, be sure of that. 
Mr. Roy Levering, of New York, has bought the 
house and all of its belongings, even the glass 
and silver plate, and I presume that he and his 
family will occupy it. His name will doubtless 
be where mine has been.” 


14 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^‘Say dat ober, mauster/^ the old negro de- 
manded, as fury shone in his eyes. 

General Manning repeated the information, 
while Cato stood with his eyes raised heaven- 
ward, his under jaw relaxed and his mouth 
opened wide. 

‘ ‘ Stop, mauster, if yo ’ please, sar, and Cato 
' emphasized each word; ‘Gemme say it all ober 
to be sho’ I hyar yo^ correct. Yo’ say, ’er Yan- 
kee — ’sense me, mauster, I mean er northe’n 
gentl’man — gwine own dis same house, an’ yo’ 
an’ Miss Helen gwine out an’ lib like de po’ 
buckra ? Is dat correct, mauster ? ’ ’ 

‘H’ve told you, Cato. That is sufficient, and 
now you may go. ’ ’ The general feared he could 
control his feelings no longer, for he knew this 
ordeal was as painful to his daughter as to 
himself. He placed his hand on her bent head. 
She too was making an effort to control herself, 
but could not repress her tears. 

‘‘Go, Cato,” he repeated, “it is as I have told 
you ; that is all. ’ ’ 

“Yes, mauster,” he muttered, giving Gen- 
eral Manning a swift, heart-broken look. “Yes, 
mauster, I’s gwine. Po’ old mauster an’ young 
missus! Lordy, I sho’ is done fo’ now. De 
Lamb hab marcy ! ’ ’ 

He paused and looked back once more. 
“Lordy, take Cato home where ole missus is. 
Hab marcy on blessed ole mauster an’ young — ” 

The sentence was never completed. The poor 
old negro tottered, the tool-box dropped from 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


15 


liis hands and he fell heavily to the ground. The 
birds took flight with shrill cries, the camelia 
bushes quivered, hut none saw the fall of the 
old slave, whose last breath was a prayer for 
those whom he had served so long and so faith- 
fully. 

The old general straightened himself and 
looked at the door of the house, then back to his 
daughter, then at the plate in his hand. 

‘‘We will go in now, my child,’’ he said, and 
the two re-entered the house. When the door was 
closed a bare place was seen where the plate 
had been and there were a few rusty holes from 
which the screws had been drawn. 


CHAPTER II 


Helen Manning sat in the library among a lit- 
ter of books and papers which she was labori- 
ously sorting and packing. Her face wore an 
expression of abject hopelessness as her hands 
moved among the dust-covered volumes. 

‘‘Well, this is a harder task than I even imag- 
ined, but I must bravely face it ; there’s nothing 
else to do. If it is such a trial for me, what must 
it be for dear, proud old father I” 

Suddenly her face softened with a tender 
smile as she heard her father ’s step. 

“Hard at work I see,” General Manning re- 
marked, entering the room and sitting down 
heavily. 

“Yes, ‘busy as a bee in honeysuckle time,’ 
father dear. Look at these hands if you think 
I am only making believe. See, ’ ’ and she opened 
wide her delicate hands. ‘ ‘ Why, I ’m dusty as a 
mummy,” and she looked up with a quizzical 
smile into her father’s face. 

“Yes, but I fear father’s little heroine, unlike 
the busy bee, extracts no sweets from her labor, 
but gets only the painful sting.” 

With a forced laugh, low and rippling, yet 
with an undertone of sadness, Helen drew a 
stool beside her father’s chair and leaned her 
head against his knee. She took one of his 


A SON OF CAROLINA 17 

hands in hers, while with the other he stroked 
her soft brown hair. 

‘ ‘ Daughter, the Leverings have come. ’ ’ 

‘‘Father! Ah, surely you do not mean that 
they are here, already here in the city? Father, 
you don^t mean that? No, no.’’ 

“Yes, my child, I mean that they arrived last 
night and are now at the Mills House. I have 
just left them.” 

“Oh well, I know what that means.” 

‘ ‘ It means, my dear, that we are to give them 
possession of the house in just one week from 
to-day. ’ ’ 

In a moment Helen was on her feet, her lithe 
figure erect and trembling, while resentment 
shown in her eyes. 

“Father, am I to understand that we are ex- 
pected to get out of our home in a week, and 
these people are to come in?” 

“These are the unalterable facts, my child,” 
General Manning said, turning away, his face 
now drawn with pain. Helen watched him in 
silence as he paced slowly back and forth the 
length of the room, with his hands folded behind 
his back and his head lowered as in despair. 

“I am weak and selfish,” she murmured to 
herself. ‘ ‘ From this moment he must not know 
what I suffer. For his dear sake I’ll bear all 
bravely, though my heart is breaking. Tears 
may drip from my heart, but not from my eyes. 
He shall not see them.” 

“Father, dear,” she said with an effort to 


18 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


speak cheerfully, ‘ ‘ It is well I went to work and 
lost no time. We will soon have order out of 
chaos. When our cosy little cottage is fitted up 
and adorned with some of these books and our 
favorite pictures, why, father dear, we will have 
a sweet, nest-like home, oh, so tiny and snug. 
God forgive me, ’’she whispered as she arched her 
brows and placed her finger on her lips, ‘‘I just 
have to do and say things. The cause in this in- 
stance calls for a bit of duplicity. Were I to 
vent my feelings I’d fret and fume, and what 
would dear old heartbroken father do then! No, 
no. I’ll he game to the end.” 

^ Won forget, my child, that only a few of the 
books are ours, and none of the pictures except 
the family portraits. ’ ’ 

A frown clouded Helen’s face for a moment, 
then melted into a smile. 

‘^What you said, father, brings to mind the 
wisdom of Emerson’s assertion, ^ There is no 
condition in life in which the law of compensa- 
tion can not be found.’ ” 

Thank God, child, if you are able now to 
discover that consoling law,” and the old gen- 
eral smiled gravely. 

‘Wes, I see it plainly this very moment, fa- 
ther. Do you recall how the artistic ambition of 
the Vicar of Wakefield resulted in the folly of 
having his family group painted in such heroic 
proportions as to prevent his modest little home 
from holding it! The picture was larger than 
the house.” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


19 


General Manning nodded his head and pursed 
his lips. 

‘‘Now you see the application, do you not, 
father! Pm sure there ^s no room in the new 
home large enough to show to advantage our 
Eubens or Murillo. An annex would destroy the 
architectural harmony of our Mills Street cot- 
tage and would also incur extra expense.’’ Here 
Helen raised her brows, and tossed her head 
with an air of mock importance. 

A flickering smile passed over the old man’s 
face. 

‘ ‘ There is a bit of wisdom in your philosophy, 
my child; but suppose I tell you that since I 
left you this morning our plans are changed. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ In what way, father ! ’ ’ 

“Changed for the best. Instead of going to 
the Mills Street cottage, our home will be at 
Magnolia.” As he spoke he straightened him- 
self in his chair and turned and faced his daugh- 
ter. His voice regained something of its old- 
time ring and force. 

Helen was looking toward the window with 
her chin in her hand. She started. 

‘ ‘ Father, ivhat do you mean ! Magnolia Hall ! 
How is such a thing possible!” 

“It is possible because of a very sensible, 
practical suggestion on the part of your cousin, 
who came down to the city for the sole purpose 
of renewing his efforts to persuade us to accept 
what he regards as simply our right. He insists 
that we are joint-heirs with him to Magnolia Hall 


20 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


and should occupy the place. He speaks of go- 
ing to the North in the near future, and wishes 
us to take possession of the house, and consider 
it our permanent home. While I disclaim all 
legal right to the place, I appreciate the boy’s 
noble, generous intentions. The property is his, 
and I’m happy to know that it is absolutely un- 
encumbered. Now, daughter, I hope you do not 
disapprove of my decision. I have accepted the 
otfer. I think it best in every way for us. Now, 
what have you to sa}^ about it, little Pet!” Gen- 
eral Manning leaned forward, his elbows on his 
knees, and looked steadily into Helen’s face. 

‘^Father, I not only approve of the arrange- 
ment, I’m really delighted. It will all be differ- 
ent now. Our descent will not seem so sudden 
and hopeless. The Hall is a royal old place, 
desperately far away and lonely; but then we 
will not mind that, will we, father dear!” 

^^No, we will not mind that,” he replied slow- 
ly, with a voice full of sympathy and resigna- 
tion. 

‘^The idea of our living in a cottage in a side 
street ! Why, for you to enter such a dwelling 
and call it home would he as incongruous as 
when the rare jewel was found in the toe of an 
old shoe that the incoming tide had washed 
ashore. 

^‘No, no! that can never be,” she repeated in 
her caressing tones. 

‘^Daughter, that may seem so to you, but we 
must not pass out of these doors with hearts 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


21 


filled with resentment or bitterness. Let ns re- 
member that the Lord giveth, and the Lord tak- 
eth away. Say with me, my child, ‘Blessed be 
the name of the Lord. ’ ^ ’ 

“Blessed be the name of the Lord^^ was mur- 
mured in a low voice as the daughter's head 
dropped on the knee of her father, who with 
clasped hands bowed his head and uttered 
“Amen!’^ just as the chimes of old Saint Mi- 
chaePs echoed the benediction — “A-men! 
A-men ! ’ ^ 

Magnolia Hall is one of the few old family 
mansions of importance on the Ashley River 
that escaped destruction when Sherman ^s army 
made its historic march to the sea. Its archi- 
tectural beauty, the massive furniture, the time- 
tinted portraits on age-mellowed walls all sug- 
gest a story of past glory and present desola- 
tion. The Baxters were always prominent in 
the history of South Carolina. Middleton Bax- 
ter was one of the original proprietors, owning 
many thousands of acres of the richest sea- 
island cotton and rice lands and hundreds of 
slaves. It was he who built Magnolia Hall, 
which through successive generations had now 
descended to Barron Baxter, the last of the fam- 
ily. It was in this time-honored mansion that 
General Manning and his daughter now found a 
refuge. 


CHAPTER III 


am charmed with our new home,^^ said 
Mrs. Roy Levering as she sank back in a soft, 
luxurious way into the yielding depths of a spa- 
cious, old-fashioned sofa. ^‘And I like this fur- 
niture, this sofa particularly ; it is big and deep 
and strong, and I can stretch to my hearths con- 
tent and feel absolutely comfortable. How dif- 
ferent from the gaudy things of to-day that are 
made for the season ^s fad, while this is for the 
comfort of generations.^^ 

‘‘Yes, indeed, assented Mr. Levering, who 
sat with out-stretched legs before the wide fire- 
place. 

‘ ‘ I dare say that sofa is a century old, perhaps 
older, and yet there is not so much as a rub on 
the wood. That^s solid mahogany too, and will 
look just as well a century to come as it looks 
to-day. The mohair is rubbed and worn, but 
that can all be newly upholstered. ^ ’ 

Mrs. Levering smilingly and calmly surveyed 
her surroundings with an air of extreme con- 
tent. 

“Yes, and just see the claw-feet. My hobby, 
you know, is claw-feet. My! There Ye enough 
in this room alone to accommodate a menagerie. 
The tiger claws on this sofa are magnificent. ’ ’ 
“I’m glad of that, ’ ’ Mr. Levering interrupted. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


23 


^‘Now maybe it will no longer be necessary to 
reveal and exercise the human claws. So say- 
ing he puffed away at his cigar, failing to ob- 
serve the grimace of disgust on his wife^s face, 
who assured him that as a wit he was a signal 
failure. ‘‘Take my advice, said she, “and 
never try to be funny; it doesn’t become you.” 

Though the little thrust was partly in jest, 
there was a sincere desire on the part of Mr. 
Roy Levering for the future concealment of 
those domestic claws alluded to, of the poignant 
power of which he had often been convinced. 

Ignoring the little scratch just received, he 
looked about him, nodding his head with an em- 
phasis of satisfaction. 

‘ ‘ Seriously, Ruth, we Ve got a big bargain. I 
like the house, furniture, and everything about 
the place. We ’re in luck to*get it. ’ ’ 

“Why, certainly we are. I’m charmed be- 
yond expression to have such a home. My blood 
that has felt frozen all my life begins to thaw 
out by all this warmth and comfort. This is a 
drowsy old city, but I’m beginning to feel at 
home, and I’m getting more accustomed to the 
ways of these Southern people. Of course the 
women are proud, and have an offish manner I 
detest, and yet I confess I can but admire their 
Castilian grace and repose of manner.” 

‘ ‘ And the men ! What about the men, Ruth ? ’ ’ 
“Why, they are equally graceful; under any 
emergency you never find them awkward or hur- 
ried. I verily believe that if they knew their 


24 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


houses were in flames they’d get out with mag- 
nificent leisure, not once losing their equipoise 
or calm bearing.” 

^‘No, I can’t imagine a Charleston man being 
rude or uncouth or hurried; and as for their 
bows, they alone deify a woman. I never feel so 
much a queen as when a Charleston man bows 
to me. I vow I don’t. There’s nothing jerky, 
business-like, or boorish in their bows. Oh, 
they are so courtly and deferential. ’ ’ 

^‘A bit patronizing, don’t you think?” and 
Mr. Roy Levering gave a grunt of amusement. 

‘ ^ Not at all ! No, I do not think so. It is only 
natural for a Southerner to be gentlemanly. He 
inherits chivalry from a race of cavaliers. He 
can’t help being a gentleman. The very air he 
breathes seems to inspire gallantry. Yesterday 
at the market I could but notice with what 
dignity the fat butcher delivered some cutlets to 
a woman purchaser. He did it with the grace 
and elegance of a courtier presenting his lady- 
love with a bouquet of roses.” 

Mr. Roy Levering ’s paper rattled unneces- 
sarily. 

^‘Bosh! Nonsense, Ruth, you are absurdly 
comical.” 

‘‘Why, of course! prejudice blinds you to 
everything beyond your own narrow views. I ’m 
broad enough to see things as they are. Thank 
Heaven I’m not pig-headed. I can see an ob- 
ject beyond my nose.” So saying, Mrs. Lever- 
ing ’s feet found refuge on the ample arm of the 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


sofa as she continued to vent her opinions, with 
the full consciousness that every word she ut- 
tered was a little thrust aimed to irritate her 
usually amiable husband. 

‘^Yes, it is all environment,^^ she went on. 
‘‘We live by absorption and example to a great 
extent. I was first impressed with this while we 
were in Rome. You remember the long-haired 
artist who was sketching the little olive vendor 
who had fallen asleep by a stone fountain? Why, 
he told us that the beggar children posed with 
the same unstudied ease as the naiads and spor- 
tive fauns and cupids that for centuries had 
been models, and taught them the silent lessons 
of grace and beauty. Now, you see what I mean, 
do you not? We Yankees are so immersed in 
the utilitarian demands of life and the eternal 
struggle and battle for the necessary dollar, that 
we haven ^t time or inclination for anything 
else.’’ 

“What a patriotic woman I have for a wife !” 
and Mr. Roy Levering ’s nose was elevated in an 
exasperating sneer. “Your language, my dear, 
is charming, quite — ah ! quite elegant in theory ; 
but has it ever occurred to you to consult your 
cards as to what number of callers you’ve had 
from these ladies of Castilian grace, who 
through absorption observe so gracefully the 
amenities of the social code? Eh! And how 
many of those men, whose bows are so uplifting, 
have called upon your husband ? ’ ’ And a whiif 
of smoke went viciously zigzag up to the ceiling. 


26 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Mrs. Levering looked painfully uncomfort- 
able. A faint blush rose to the roots of her black 
hair that was already streaked with gray. 

There you are again on your pet hobby, 
about Southern prejudice against Yankees, and 
all that nonsense. Since we expect to live here, 
why not get accustomed to conditions and accept 
things as they are and not as we would have 
them, and the sooner we do so the better. ’ ’ And 
her thin lips closed with emphasis as she 
snatched up a book and began scanning its pages 
nervously. 

Mr. Levering whistled softly as he picked up 
the morning paper and began looking over the 
headlines. Really the idiosyncrasies of his wife 
were beyond his comprehension, and he had long 
since abandoned the hope of understanding her 
various moods. 

Suddenly he gave a start that caused his wife 
to look up. 

< ‘ Why, what is the matter 1 ’ ’ 

Great God! Ruth, listen to this. General 
Manning is dead. The poor old general is 
dead ! ’ ’ 

This announcement gave Mrs. Levering so 
genuine a shock that it sent a pallor over her 
face as she clutched the paper, following each 
word from her husband ^s lips as he read an ac- 
count of how this gallant gentleman of the old 
school, while in quiet conversation with his 
daughter, fell back and died instantly. 

^‘Yes, and I see it occurred at Magnolia Hall. 


A SON OF CAEOLINA 


27 


Humph! Humph! That is where they have 
made their home since they gave up this house. ’ ^ 
‘ ‘ Yes, I know that, but read on. ^ ^ 

^‘It is a long article; but I declare too much 
can not be said in his praise, for if there was 
ever a grand old gentleman he was one; high 
spirited, courteous and honest, yes, to the back- 
bone; a man whose word was good as his bond.’^ 
‘ ^ Read on, ^ ^ his wife repeated impatiently. 
Mr. Levering cleared his throat nervously. 
‘‘ ‘The news of the death of General Alston Man- 
ning which occurred last night at Magnolia Hall 
has caused profound sorrow throughout this 
city and State, for his life was an example and 
monument illustrating the old school of the 
South Carolina gentleman. In times of peace, 
honored as the suave, courtly citizen, chivalrous 
and generous, and in the stirring, active scenes 
of war distinguished as the peerless patriot and 
brave and merciful soldier. ^ ^ ’ 

“True, every word of it,’’ and Mr. Levering 
put down his paper. 

‘ ‘ Never shall I forget, ’ ’ said he, ‘ ‘ the last time 
I saw him; he shook hands with me and said, 
‘Well, sir, I trust that you will be pleased with 
the house. ’ This was after I had bought it. The 
expression of his face was a study. He was dig- 
nified as a cardinal, and courtly as a knight, but 
his face twitched nervously and he reminded me 
of the old martyr we read of who wore a thorn- 
woven shirt beneath his mantle. How to bear 
jjrosperity has been the text of many a sermon ; 


28 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


but bow to bear adversity, in my opinion, de- 
mands a very different pliilosopliy. Here is a 
man wbo falls from wealth and ease from no 
act of his own into almost hopeless privation, 
and bears the transition with uncomplaining 
tranquillity. I tell you, Ruth, he is a spectacle 
for the praise of the gods, as well as of man.” 

‘^What do they say killed him?” Mrs. Lever- 
ing put in abruptly. 

^‘Supposed to be heart failure — so it says 
here. ^ ’ 

^‘Of course, they call it that — they may call 
it heart failure or what they please, but I call it 
money failure — heartache and heartbreak be- 
cause of the loss of property — and — and the loss 
of his home. It is enough to kill a proud man 
to see such a home as this go to strangers, and 
especially to a New Englander, who is his an- 
tithesis in most things. ’ ^ 

Well, yes, that may have affected him some,” 
and Mr. Levering twirled the newspaper in his 
hands and looked long and earnestly into the 
fire. 

‘‘Now, Roy, I will tell you something. Of 
course you’ll say tut, tut! — consult a physician; 
you’re nervous — and all such things, but any- 
how I ’ll tell you. It is this : Since we ’ve lived 
in this house I’ve been so restless and frightened 
at times that I almost wished we’d never come 
here. Last evening when alone in this room, be- 
fore John had lit the gas, the firelight flared and 
the flames curled around those ugly griffins on 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


29 


the andirons and licked ont flaming tongues and 
hissed at me. Of course, it was all imagination, 
but it seemed as if every object became a living 
thing that jeered and pointed to the door as if 
telling me I had no right here. The picture of 
General Marion brandished his sword with a 
certain avenging disdain, and that haughty, red- 
lipped Mrs. Somebody over there snarled until 
her narrow white teeth glittered, all of which I 
confess was my own fancy from brooding over 
things; but now this is a real, real thing that 
happened. As I sat here wondering when the 
people would send for their family portraits 
and wishing from my soul they would soon do 
so, I heard the muffled flutter under' this very 
sofa and a cry of a bird. I rang for John, who 
came and lit the gas, and we both looked for the 
bird, when suddenly it swooped up and past us 
and circled around the room, swaying as it flew 
before every portrait in the room, and with its 
jet-black sparkling eyes peered into the face of 
each as if searching for one portrait in particu- 
lar. After flying around in this way it at last 
alighted on the top of General Manning's por- 
trait, and flapping its wings shrieked as if in 
pain. Then it cuddled in the hollow of the frame 
in the corner where the ornaments extend out, 
and remained there. 

‘ AVell, what of thatT^ said Mr. Levering, who 
had been listening in a half-amused way. ‘‘Why 
didnT John give the poor thing its freedom by 
opening the door or window!’’ 


30 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


wait and hear me ont,’^ his wife cried 
excitedly. ^‘Why, Jolm would not touch the 
bird. No, wouldn ’t touch it. ‘ I tell you, ma ’am, ’ 
said he, ‘de ole gineral gwine die soon. A bird 
in de house am bad luck. Dat bird mean death. ’ 
That was only last evening, and to-day we read 
of General Manning’s death.” 

Though evidently interested, Mr. Levering 
smilingly remarked that the bird was cold and 
hungry and was seeking refuge. ‘ ‘ It is but nat- 
ural that it should. Is that the bird I saw John 
have this morning ? ” he asked. 

‘^Yes, it was found dead under the general’s 
portrait,” Mrs. Levering said solemnly. 

^ ^ Well, all such fancies are nonsense ! I guess 
the cat enjoyed the bird immensely, asking no 
questions as to whether it was a crow or a dove. 
So, Ruth, let us imitate the cat, and enjoy our 
home, that we’ve wronged no one in possessing. 
Had we not bought it, some one else would have. 
That’s all. The place had to be sold for debt. 
We paid a fair price, at any rate. The good 
man is now beyond the consciousness of regret 
or loss.” 

‘ ‘ That is very true, but what about his daugh- 
ter? That sensitive, proud young woman. What’s 
to become of her, I wonder? Ah, well, as you 
suggest, we won’t worry about matters we can’t 
mend. It’s time for lunch ; but really, the shock 
has taken away my appetite. I’ll only have a 
cup of tea. So touch the bell for Nanny, please.” 

‘ ^ How do you like her ? ’ ’ 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


31 


^^Why, I’m charmed, delighted, more than 
pleased,” she exclaimed with enthusiasm. The 
husband held his peace as the merits of the maid 
were enumerated. ^‘Oh! how did I ever live 
without Nanny? How did I ever endure Nora 
and Kate with their awkward ways, muscular 
arms, big hands, and dynamic voices. Oh ! Nan- 
ny is such a treasure. She’s so reposeful; but 
the only fault I find, she is depressing. She 
looks so haggard and miserable at times, just as 
if there was some secret grievance in her life. 
Now, I positively believe she is entangled in some 
deep trouble which I’ll ferret out, if such a thing 
is possible.” 

^‘AVell, you’ll do it if it can be done; but it is 
easy to see the woman’s an invalid. It is said 
that mnlattoes are not usually noted for longev- 
ity, but the poor thing may improve now that 
she has proper food and only light duties. ’ ’ 

^‘Well, at any rate I’m glad yon like her.” 
Nanny’s entrance with her tray put a stop to the 
discussion. 

‘‘Your lunch, ma’am,” she said, placing the 
silver waiter on a small table before her mis- 
tress. 

She was a tall, slim young woman, with fea- 
tures as clear-cut and delicate as an intaglio. 
Her smooth, tawny skin had in it the hue of age- 
tinted meerschaum, while jet-black hair drawn 
low over her forehead, and big heavy dark eyes, 
made a face to haunt one with its pallid tints and 
mournful expression. 


32 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘‘I hope the lunch will suit you ma’am,’^ she 
said, arranging the cups and saucers with a deft, 
dainty touch. ‘ ‘ Old mistress taught me how to 
prepare the toast so that it couldn’t harm any 
one. She used to like it this way, dear old mis- 
tress. If she ain’t in heaven then nobody ever 
gets there, ” and a sad smile passed over her face 
as she unfolded the snowy napkin from over the 
tray. 

‘‘Nanny, you really loved your mistress, didn’t 
you? She must have been very good and kind 
to you. Some time I want you to tell me all 
about your life in the slavery days. I’ve read 
and heard so much about the cruelty of the own- 
ers to their negroes, but I am convinced it isn’t 
true. Since living South I find as a general 
thing the old slaves love their owners and don’t 
speak of their slavery days as days of misery 
and cruelty.” 

“No, ma’am, no, ma’am. They were the hap- 
piest days of all my life ; ’ ’ but she could say no 
more. A spell of coughing interrupted her. 
Excuse me, ma ’am, ’ ’ she said, leaving the room. 

“Don’t you see? Just as I told you. You 
might as well make up your mind to give up the 
woman ; she is far gone in consumption, I think. 
That cough surely means death. Poor thing, 
how plainly can be seen in her the synthesis of 
blood — which is unfortunate — very unfortunate ; 
she must always feel the degrading, galling yoke 
of bondage, like a millstone about her neck.” 

“Bless you, you needn’t worry yourself about 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


33 


Mrs. Levering exclaimed; ‘^for I believe 
they’re rather proud of that synthesis of blood. 
Much has been said and written on the subject, 
and many affirm that the system of slavery pro- 
voked the war, but it is all rubbish. Remember 
what Victor Hugo says of Napoleon and the bat- 
tle of Waterloo : ‘Bonaparte, victor at Waterloo, 
didn ’t harmonize with the law of the nineteenth 
century. Another series of events was prepar- 
ing in which Napoleon had no longer a place. It 
was not a battle, but a transformation of the 
universe. ’ That is exactly my idea of the aboli- 
tion of slavery. The time had come when the 
South was reaching out so far that her power 
would unbalance the national equilibrium. The 
South must and will ever hold the admiration of 
the whole civilized world. It’s true, Roy, I’m a 
genuine New Yorker,” Mrs. Levering continued, 
ignoring her husband’s smile, “but I’m liberal 
enough in my ideas to acknowledge that the 
South was reaching out very far. Her strength 
was not confined to magnificent estates and sup- 
pliant slaves, to blue blood, to culture and chiv- 
alry, and all such things; but her increasing 
wealth promised monarchical rule, and, like an- 
cient Rome, she stood before the world polished 
and exquisitely chiseled, on a pedestal of pure 
gold. ’ ’ 

“And what was the fate of ancient Rome, my 
eloquent Aspasia? Didn’t she doze herself away 
beneath her lotus shades of luxurious inactiv- 
ity!” 


34 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘ ^ Exactly so. Just as I said. Such a state of 
things wasn^t in harmony with the law of the 
nineteenth century. Another series of events 
was preparing in which slavery had no longer 
a part. A transformation of events was inev- 
itable. Yes, I say, inevitable And Mrs. Lev- 
ering ’s clenched fist came down with such force 
on the table as to send the pendant on a cande- 
labrum shivering and rattling. 

‘ ‘ Bravo, bravo ! Why, Ruth, if I could talk as 
you talk take the stump, or, better, the plat- 
form. I’d be a politician or a lecturer of some 
sort. But come, did you say you would like to 
drive? Then I’ll order the carriage,” and Mr. 
Levering stretched himself and yawned. 


CHAPTER IV 


It was soon after the close of the war between 
the States that the Manning mansion was bought 
by the Roy Leverings of New York, who pur- 
posed to occupy it as a winter home. 

Mrs. Roy Levering, needing the services of a 
maid, advertised for one ; and among the many 
young women who applied for the place, Nanny 
was preferred and engaged at a salary that 
seemed to her munificent. 

‘‘While you are dressing my hair, Nanny, I 
should like to have a talk with you,’’ said Mrs. 
Levering one morning to her maid. ‘ ‘ So hurry 
your preparations and come soon as possible.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” replied the maid a little nerv- 
ously as she let fall a box of pins. 

“Why, girl, what’s the matter? I never saw 
you so careless before. Do not stop to pick them 
up — come. ’ ’ 

“Just a minute and I’ll be ready, ma’am,” 
and in a perfunctory way she busied herself with 
the dressing-table while her mistress gazed 
about the room abstractedly. 

“Nanny, these walls are dreadfully sombre, 
and the place looks more like a cloister than a 
lady’s boudoir. You should see my dressing- 
room at home — I mean my New York house — 
which is like a jewel-box, paneled in white and 


36 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


gold. And my dressing-table, with its rose 
hangings, swinging lamps, and lace draperies — 
why, it would be a joy for you to be there and see 
it all.’^ 

^A^es, ma^am; but this, you Imow, used to be 
Aiiss Helen’s dressing-room. She wouldn’t have 
anything else than these dark walls, and big 
glasses, ’cause her grandma and her ma before 
her both used to have this room when they were 
young and dressed before these same glasses. 
You see, ma’am, our ladies think that whatever 
their great grandmothers used to do is good 
enough for them now, and all the new fashions 
in the world wouldn ’t make them budge from the 
old way. ’ ’ 

^AYell, really, I believe that is so. Custom 
seems to be the thing in this delightful old city. 
So you know the Mannings, do you?” 

‘^Oh, yes, ma’am; many’s the time I helped 
Miss Helen dress right in this room. She never 
could have any regular maid but Aunt Patsey, 
who nursed her ma and then nursed her ; she al- 
ways called her ‘Mammy’; and even when Miss 
Helen was a big grown up young lady. Mammy 
had to sleep within call of her; and many is the 
time she would sit by the bed and sing her to 
sleep just as she used to do when Miss Helen 
was a baby. Yes, ma’am; and that was after 
slavery, too. Nothin’ but the Lord could ever 
get Aunt Patsey to leave her ‘baby chile,’ as she 
called Miss Helen up to the day she died. Yes’m, 
I know General Manning’s folks well; every- 


37 


A SON OF CAROLINA 

body knows of them — the Pinlmeys and the Rut- 
ledges and the Vanderhorsts and the Middletons 
and the Alstons, all are mighty high-up, proud 
folks sure.^^ 

^ ^ Nanny, I am not in the habit of talking to my 
servants ; this you know, and even my favorite 
maids have never dared to intrude conversation 
upon me; but I feel desperately bored today, so 
talk on, but mind, don’t forget and braid my 
hair ; I wish it waved. Now tell me about Miss 
Manning. Is it so that her health is bad? I wish 
she would be friendly ; but she is very cold and 
distant to me; she never has encouraged the 
least familiarity or friendliness. When it was 
necessary for her to meet me with regard to 
business matters she confined her conversation 
to business and repelled in the most elegant 
and withering manner all my overtures. Is that 
her usual w'ay?” 

‘‘Well, Miss Helen is mighty stately and 
proud-like; but — but you know, ma’am, it may 
be — ” and the woman faltered. 

“Say it out. It is because we are Yankees. 
Well, I scarcely blame her. I asked you if Miss 
Manning was in a decline. Is she ? ’ ’ 

“Now, ma’am, it’s against my training to talk 
about the white folks’ atfairs ; but you ask about 
Miss Helen and appear to feel so kind to her. I’ll 
tell you, ma ’am, she never has been herself since 
she give up the gentleman she was engaged to 
marry. Since that time she would never go to 


38 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


parties nor see company mncli; she just pine 
away to a ghost, all to please her pa. ’ ^ 

‘^Why, it seems to me such a queenly young 
woman as Miss Manning would have had her 
way and married whom she pleased. ^ ^ 

^‘No, ma^am, she would no more go against 
her pa than to cut her head off; and then the 
trouble was the gentleman didn’t belong to the 
family her pa wanted ; and there was a mighty 
big disgrace on his people, and that Miss Hel- 
en’s folks couldn’t get over. The gentleman 
was a tine man and no end to his richness, but — ” 
and Nanny’s voice fell to a whisper — “his 
grandpa made his money as a negro-trader, and 
that with our folks is worse even than a liquor 
dealer. When Miss Helen found out how her 
lover’s grandfather got rich she of her own will 
broke the engagement clean off. Yes, ma’am, 
and she thanked the Lord she found it out in 
time. And as for old Mammy Patsey, why she 
fell on her knes and went to shoutin’ and praisin’ 
the Lord that her ^baby chile’ didn’t bring dis- 
grace on her people. ’ ’ 

^ ^ Oh, Nanny ! Do you mean that was the only 
objection General Manning found, that the gen- 
tleman’s grandfather had been a slave-dealer?” 

Nanny looked surprised. “Why, ma’am, I 
think that was mighty bad, and cause enough. 
Our folks don’t care for nothin’ when it comes to 
mixing up their blood with common buckra. No, 
ma’am; money don’t count then.” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


39 


‘‘And/^ Airs. Levering asked abruptly, ^‘wbat 
became of the gentleman 1 ^ ’ 

“Well, ma’am, soon afterward he married a 
lady mighty rich herself; but Jetf, the butler, 
who used to live with her people, say there was 
some disgrace on her family. Her ma and pa 
made their money keepin’ a hotel. Yes, ma’am, 
they married and looked as fine and grand as 
anybody, but we all in Charleston here know 
how it was. Please, ma ’am, see the back of your 
head ; the j)utf s look like that mahogany, so shiny 
and dark. ’ ’ 

Taking a hand-mirror, Mrs. Levering looked 
at her hair, but not so critically as was her wont. 
‘ ^ Guess that will do, and now I wish to talk on a 
matter of business. Stand there and listen 
to me. ’ ’ 

“Yes, ma’am,” said Nanny, alertly attentive 
in an instant. 

“It is this. In a few weeks we expect to close 
the house and go North. I want you to go with 
us. I like you ; yes, like you so well that I am 
unwilling to do without you. Now you under- 
stand my ways, and I yours. I ’m sure it will be 
best for all concerned. You will go, Nanny, 
won’t you I” 

There was moment’s silence. The woman’s 
mouth twitched nervously as the tears gathered 
in her eyes. 

i ‘ Why, what ’s the matter, pray ? What have 
I said to hurt you?” Mrs. Levering asked as 


40 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Nanny stuttered and stammered something inco- 
herently. 

^^Oh, please, ma’am, excuse me, but I don’t 
think I can go. I would so like to, ma’am — no, 
ma’am, I can’t go.” 

‘‘Why, what’s the matter? Haven’t I always 
treated you kindly ? Are your wages not liberal 
enough? For Heaven’s sake be sensible and 
explain what is the matter with you, and why do 
you act so. What prevents your going, pray?” 

Nanny was silent. 

“If there are obstacles,” Mrs. Levering said 
with feeling, “just tell me what they are. I like 
obstacles because it is diverting to remove them. 
Now, come, girl, tell me your trouble and you 
may be sure 1 will smooth it all away. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But you won ’t want me when I tell you. No, 
ma’am, you wouldn’t have me if you knew.” 

“You know nothing about what I would do,” 
and Mrs. Levering snitfed her smelling-salts. 
“ Go on and tell me, ’ ’ she insisted. 

“Oh, please ma’am, don’t think hard because 

I didn’t tell you, but 1 have a child, a little 

girl. I was afraid you would turn me away if 
you knew.” 

Mrs. Levering, who was usually self-possessed, 
started. “You have a child? And never told 
me before ? Oh, Nanny, but that need not inter- 
fere with our plans ; we can make provision for 
her ; that is easy enough to do. Gracious, is that 
all?” 

The swarthy face of the maid blushed purple. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 41 

‘‘You don’t understand that — that she is a child 
of shame. ’ ’ Her voice fell to a whisper. 

‘ ‘ Great Heaven ! woman, what do you mean ! 
And your vile, snaky fingers have touched my 
hair, and you came with your sly, sneaking 
ways to disgrace my house. Go away ! Oh, what 
a fool I’ve been. Your slimy ways deceived me. 
Get your belongings and prepare to leave the 
house. Come to me before you go and I will pay 
you twice what I owe you, ’ ’ and she turned upon 
Nanny a gaze that caused her to quail as under 
the lash. 

“Thank you; but only pay what is due me, 
and I will go,” Nanny said slowly, starting to- 
ward the door. 

Mrs. Levering ’s gray eyes grew less cruel as 
they turned toward the weak figure that was 
almost staggering beneath the blow her words 
had dealt. 

“Nanny, do not go yet. Wait just a moment. 
I may have been too hasty. You know that ’s my 
way. I’m dreadfully impulsive, and often say 
horrid things. I should have heard more before 
I condemned you so harshly. Nanny, stay here 
one moment. I’ll send for you presently. Ho 
you understand?” Mrs. Levering said, leaving 
the room. 

“I do, ma’am,” Nanny replied, leaning heav- 
ily against the door. 

A few moments ’ consultation with Mr. Lever- 
ing settled the matter, and Nanny was asked to 
vindicate herself by an explanation of affairs. 


42 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Nanny, I don^t believe you are so bad after 
all,’^ Mrs. Levering said awhile later. ‘‘Come 
now, give me your confidence. Tell me all about 
your early life, as far back as you can remember, 
up to when you came to me. I have good reasons 
for wanting to know. If I find that you have 
been sinned against I will forgive your error and 
pardon your weakness, but I wish to know the 
whole truth. Are you willing to tell me all I 
want to know ? ^ ^ 

The maid covered her gaze and glanced un- 
easily about, without speaking. 

“Poor, poor creature, donT be afraid of me. 
Just tell me in your own way about your planta- 
tion home and your owners. Tell me about 
slavery, what the old plantation was like, and 
in fact everything. Then you may tell about 
your child. DonT shiver and look so frightened. 
You really make me nervous.’^ 

“Pardon me,ma^am,I didnT mean to, but what 
you said really made me see so many things in 
my mind that I^d nearly forgot about. Oh! I 
love to talk about that happy time, ma’am, and — 
and I don ’t think you ’ll blame me when I tell you 
all,” Nanny said, wiping away the fast-falling 
tears with her apron as she choked back a sob. 

“There! don’t be foolish. Go on and tell me 
all I want to know. What’s the name of the 
child?” 

Leaning back with half-closed eyes she sat 
listening as with restless, impatient fingers she 
began thumping on the table. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


43 


‘^Her name^s Gypta, ma^am. It’s a sorter 
queer soundin’ name, but mistress named her. 
It ain’t so very long ago; but when I begin to 
think, why, ma’am, it seems a lifetime since 
slavery days. Well, as I started to say, our 
plantation was here in Carolina, and I don’t be- 
lieve the Lord ever made another place as happy 
as ours used to be before General Sherman come 
and broke it up. The house — master’s house, 
and the plantation and everything you say you 
want to hear about? Won’t it tire you or make 
your nervous, ma’am?” 

^‘No, no! I want to hear all. I believe you’ll 
tell me the truth. I’ve read and heard all sorts 
of stories, but I’ve never known how far to be- 
lieve them. When I’m tired I’ll let you know. 
Now talk on.” 

‘ ‘ Well, all I tell you is the Lord’s truth, ’ ’ Nan- 
ny said, gaining assurance. ‘‘Now, ma’am, just 
imagine you see a great big white house, with 
about twelve white columns around it — that was 
the home house, for master and family. Why, it 
stood so lofty-like that we could see it for miles 
away. Fields and meadows and orchards were 
around the house. In the meadows hundreds of 
fine sleek cattle grazed. Then there were thou- 
sands of acres of land white with cotton, which 
when ripe looked like all heaven’s snow was 
emptied right down in those same fields. And 
the orchards were glowing with ruddy peaches, 
and big damson plums, and purple figs; and 
great long lattice arbors were blue with grapes ; 


44 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


while on the ground thousands of melons lay yel- 
low as gold, and some green ones striped with 
white, — oh, how the little black niggers used to 
steal those melons, and Mr. Mike, the overseer, 
used to catch them too; and all the land was 
a-bloom with flowers, and the scent of the jassa- 
mine filled every corner and nook of the planta- 
tion. Coral woodbine, passion flower and honey- 
suckle tangled in and out of the great spreading 
trees. Far out in a circle for miles around were 
the little cabins of negroes, and each had its 
pretty plot of ground all filled with vegetables, 
melons, and bushes of lilac and pomegranate. 
Oh, mistress, this was a happy, happy land in 
those days. The days were spent in good honest 
toil ; there was always singing in the fields when 
hoeing and cotton picking went on, and when the 
dinner horn would blow there was a scramble 
and shout, and you never did see such a happy 
crowd as answered to that call; and at night 
around the cabin doors the fire would blaze, and 
we all would dance and sing to the banjo that Joe 
and Jake used to pick. The Lord knows, ma’am, 
those were happy days; but I tire you, please, 
ma’am, don’t I tire you I I quite forgot myself 
and only thought of those good old days, that 
ain ’t goin ’ to come no more. ’ ’ 

‘^No, no, go on,” cried Mrs. Levering. 

^Mn the big family house,” continued Nanny, 
‘‘master and mistress lived with four children. 
The oldest was named Alston, a tall handsome 
young lad as was ever seen, and the youngest 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


45 


was baby Isabel, who was born on the very same 
day that my Gypta wms. As I told you, I was 
always a house-servant, my mistress’s maid. I 
can never forget that day when she was well 
enough to bid me carry my little child to her 
room to see what she was like. As I entered her 
chamber I saw her as she lay like a queen, so 
white and pretty with fine linen and laces about 
her, while in a cradle all blue and white her baby 
was tucked, that not a breath of air could reach 
her. The room was so dim and dark that I had 
to put up the curtain that she could see my child. 

‘Why, Nanny, she is a fine baby, and so 
bright. She will have to be little Isabel’s maid.’ 
And then she told her nurse to hand her a pack- 
age from the bureau drawer that she put on top 
of my child, saying, ‘ Take that as a present from 
your little mistress, Isabel.’ And, oh, ma’am, 
when I opened the bundle there was clothes for 
my baby, pretty blue and pink dresses and shoes 
and stockings and a string of beads, and I don’t 
know what all. Don’t you see, ma’am, how 
could I help loving such a blessed, sweet good 
kind mistress as she was. She made me hold 
the child so that she could put the beads round 
her neck with her own pretty white hands. ‘ Now, 
hurry up and grow, do you hear!’ she said, 
pinching baby’s ear. ‘Your little mistress over 
there in the cradle will soon need you.’ You 
see, the white folks wanted the likeliest-looking 
slaves to wait about the house. We used to like 
it mighty well too, for at the big house we had 


46 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


fine times. Ladies and gentlemen would come 
and spend weeks there ; and oh, ma’am, what gay- 
times they had. Fox huntin ’ and deer huntin ’ in 
the day, and dancin’ most all the night. The ladies 
followed the hounds ; and my ! how they used to 
dash and fly through the woods, not afraid of 
any horse in the stables. Yes, ma’am, those 
were days when the white folks needn’t want 
any other heaven than on this earth, for the 
Lord knows that every day was a pleasure day 
to them. Yes, ma’am, they may say of slavery 
what they want, but we had many comforts and 
little care, for we never had to look a day ahead 
to know what we would eat or wear. ’ ’ 

‘^Did you ever have more than one owner, 
Nanny!” 

‘^Well, yes, ma’am, I had; but I was a slim 
bit of a girl when I was sold. All my people were 
sold too, and carried away, so that to this day 
I don’t know where my old mother is, or my 
brothers or sisters. You see I was light and my 
hair was straight, so that I brought more than 
my brothers and sisters put together. I never 
will forget how I knelt down on the ground and 
prayed to God to put it into the heart of the 
man who had bought my people to buy me, so 
that we could all be together; but as I stood 
alone on the block and heard the people say how 
likely I was, the bidding went higher and higher. 
Then it was for the first time I saw my master. 
Every time there was a bid for me he would go 
higher, and I was knocked down to him, and I 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


47 


knew then that I must say good-hy to all my 
own flesh and blood. My poor old mammy, as 
I called her then, mourned and cried so loud 
that they took her away by force, and the last 
time I ever looked upon any of my kin again was 
to see them waiting and crying for their poor 
lost Nanny. My new master was mighty good 
to me, and told me that I would be his wife^s 
maid, and live in the house with her and he 
taught all sorts of nice ways. That, ma’am, is 
the reason I can wait on you so well, and I was 
taught to talk more like white people, for I was 
most always with them. Then the war came on, 
and later, as you know, we were all made free. 
The last time I was at the old home all was 
changed. Master had been killed in the last bat- 
tle of the war, and mistress Avas grieving herself 
to a ghost, and the children were helping her to 
do her own w'ork. Mass’ Alston had gone away 
to get work. Miss Grace and Lou was going to 
be teachers, and little Isabel was like one of 
God’s angels, with her blue eyes and yellow hair. 
The old house looked dark and empty. Joe, the 
coaclunan, soon as emancipation set him free, 
went to Georgia, and is a grand politician now. 
Jake, master’s body-servant, is a barber in New 
York. Zeke, the butler, is a big man at one of 
the hotels in Florida. Yes, ma’am, only the good 
Lord knows what this war has done for my 
people.” 

am surprised, Nanny,” said Mrs. Lever- 
ing, ‘Ghat you ever left your home; you surely 


48 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


would have been kindly treated had you been 
true to your owners.’’ 

^‘Well, yes, ma’am, it does seem so; but when 
General Sherman passed through the South and 
set us free, it seemed that Satan was turned 
loose in us. We wanted to enjoy freedom, and 
we poor fools thought the only way was to run 
to the towns and big cities and leave our owners 
to work as we had done. We thought that the 
Government would take care of us, but soon 
found that we must work or starve. Oh, ma’am, 
after I left home I used to lay awake half the 
nights and cry and pray for the good old days. 
I wanted to hear the horn at sunrise, and the 
song of my people as they went to the cotton- 
fields. I longed for a drink of water from the 
spring that trickled out of a rock, and was the 
coolest, sweetest water in all the world. I wanted 
to hear the cow-bells klingle, klangle through 
the clover; and, oh! how I wanted to dance at 
our corn shucking parties, where I was always 
made the queen.” 

For a moment the woman’s face was illum- 
ined with a light in strange contrast with the 
despairing look of a moment before; but that 
sudden transition from one emotion to another 
is one of the characteristics of the negro race. 
Their tears and smiles are not far apart. 

Mrs. Levering had listened attentively, and 
now her heart was full of sympathy for the un- 
fortunate creature. 

‘‘Shall I tell you everything else, ma’am?” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


49 


‘‘No, you have told me enough. Nanny, I no 
longer blame, but I pity you. Now answer me 
this. Are you willing to go with us if you are 
allowed to carry your little girl with you! When 
North we may be able to place her in a children’s 
home, should I go abroad or travel elsewhere. 
So you need not be separated from her only for 
a short time during the year. I’ll be a friend 
to you both. Now, will you go? Think well and 
give me a definite answer. I say you must go. 
Now what say you?” 

The laughter of children floated on the odor- 
ous air and the seabirds flashed on the waves 
like silver lances. The buzzards, after a day’s 
feast on the market-top, swooped their thin 
black wings in an outward flight across the river 
to their island home. 

“Well,” said Mrs. Levering, “what have you 
decided ? ’ ’ Hurry, I am getting nervous. ’ ’ 

“Please, ma’am, will you promise if I was 
to die you would never give up my child to 
strangers? You will always keep her?” 

“Why, certainly, I will promise to protect 
and befriend her so long as I live. ’ ’ 

“Then I will go, ma’am, and never, never 
leave you. Yes, ma’am, you are mighty kind 
and good to me. My dear old mistress couldn’t 
do more than that. ’ ’ 

“Very well; we will consider it all settled. 
Now go and get some fresh air. You look as if 
you needed it. You may have the remainder 


50 A SON OF CAROLINA 

of the afternoon and evening. You are not well, 
Nanny. 

‘ ‘ No, ma ’am, I ’m not f eelin ’ well ; but a breath 
of the salt air will help me. ’ ’ 

She turned a grateful look toward her mis- 
tress, and with a curtsy left the room. 


CHAPTEE V 


It was an enchanting afternoon, brilliant and 
luminous, with an amber light falling through 
the aisles of blossom-laden trees, beneath which 
the young fingers of spring had woven the most 
gorgeous floral rugs and laid them evenly down, 
as if inviting leisure, rest, and dreams. The 
soft movement and song of the birds, and the 
lulling cadence of the sea, blended with odorous, 
caressing air. Upon these rugs of tulips and 
pansies children romped and played. The old 
nurses — picturesque old souls, with big moon- 
shaped earrings and gaily striped handker- 
chiefs, mounted like cones on their heads — are 
out in full force. The old ‘‘mammy’s’^ pride 
centers upon the immaculate whiteness and in- 
flexible stiffness of her long apron, which is 
tied in huge bows about her ample waist. Half 
dozing, she sits for hours at a time in the mellow 
sunshine, while the children committed to her 
care toddle around, or baby sleeps cuddled in 
the cradle of her lap. The old nurses adore their 
charges, and the children love “ mammy with 
her kindly black face and crooning voice. 

‘‘Come hyar, honey,’’ you hear one cry. 
“Bress mammy’s chile, if she ain’ gwine put de 
leabes in her mout’. Don’t tech dat, honey; 
it’s pizen,” and in a moment she is beside the 


52 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


little tot, from whose dimpled fist she gently 
pries a leaf which the chubby fingers clutch with 
infantile tenacity. When the child begins whim- 
pering defiantly, she catches and jumps it into 
the air with astonishing ease. In another instant 
she is chasing a little fellow who persists in 
climbing the lamp post to the detriment of his 
clean frock and tender hands. 

‘ ^ De Lord ! see de boy. What he aim to do I 
Come hyar, yo ^ Rhett. Don ’ yo ’ know yo ’ gwine 
to Car yo’ purty coat, an’ mabbe break yo’ 
blessed little neck aimin’ to clam’ dat ar post?” 
And, after claiming the truant urchin, she sits 
contentedly and rests as the baby falls asleep 
under the somnolent influence of her favorite 
lullaby — ‘‘Go to sleep, my baby, mammy ain’t 
gwine to leab yo’. My chile gwine sleep, an’ 
I’se gwine to keep all harm from my blessed 
baby. ’ ’ 

“This is indeed the queen city of the Atlan- 
tic,” Mrs. Levering said to her husband as they 
drove leisurely through the streets. 

“Yes, and it typifies the South’s antebellum 
civilization more than any city in the South ; it 
also emphasizes the past glories and decayed 
splendor that to me are more imposing than 
beautiful. But for the opulence of foliage, the 
city would be absolutely uninviting in its stately 
gloom. See the gashes and wounds staring out 
at every turn,” and Mrs. Levering pointed to 
a row of houses facing the Battery, many of 
them bearing the marks of hostile shells. There 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


53 


were defaced walls, broken cornices and riven 
columns, upon which vines had woven them- 
selves and cast showers of scarlet blossoms, re- 
sembling streams and clots of blood amid the 
gaping wounds. 

Across the bay were Castle Pinkney’s war- 
beaten battlements, dyed red with the western 
glow of the descending sun; and Fort Sumter, 
grim and silent, like some crouching mastodon 
with all the gold of India sifted upon its rugged 
sides, is lapped by the snow-mained waves which 
frolic about its rocky loins. Sullivan’s Island 
and the fast-melting sands of Wagner are also 
in sight; while gray old Moultrie boldly stems 
the ebb and flow of the tide which moans its 
eternal requiem over many a patriot’s bones. 

^‘How sadly beautiful it is!” Mrs. Levering 
said wearily. ^‘At times I feel as if I should 
like to remain here forever ; but already the air 
is enervating.” 

‘‘Yes, and the sooner we arrange to go the 
better. I’m compelled to be in New York by 
the middle of the month — it’s almost that now,” 
and Mr. Levering put on the look of a man with 
important matters in view. 

^M’m perfectly willing to go,” said Mrs. Lev- 
ering, picking up her parasol. 

‘^Well, we’re home,” she said as the victoria 
stopped in front of the door ; ‘ ‘but I wonder why 
Nanny is not here to take my things,” and she 
looked wonderingly about. 


54 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Where is Nanny T’ she asked a small girl, 
one of the under-servants. 

Please ’m, I will wait on you; Nanny was 
ailin’ an’ went home an’ tole me to say she 
would come back soon as she was able. ’ ’ 

^‘Ah, how sorry I am,” Mrs. Levering said, 
throwing her wraps to the girl. 

‘‘Just as I feared,” she continued, following 
her husband into the house. 

“Just as I knew,” he answered, adjusting his 
hat on the rack and folding his gloves slowly. 
‘ ‘ My dear, make up your mind to do without the 
woman. Take my word for it, she will never be 
well again. I saw it in her face a few days ago ; 
the seal of death is upon her. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Levering paced the floor impatiently, but 
made no reply. 


CHAPTEB VI 


It was midnight. The wind was blowing a 
furious gale, when the door-bell of the Levering 
mansion was rung with such force as to startle 
the household. 

‘‘Nanny Gray is mighty sick, an’ say fur de 
lady what’s name Miss Leverin’ to please ’um 
come quick, she gwine die.” 

These words were spluttered out excitedly by 
a black urchin whose eyes and teeth were all 
that were visible in the darkness. He was gone 
as suddenly as he appeared. His summons was 
obeyed as quickly as possible by Mrs. Levering, 
who soon was hurrying to the bed-side of the 
dying woman. 

It was a desperate drive. The horses’ feet 
clattered harshly on the cobble-stones, while the 
city was stark in sleep, then emerged in the 
suburbs, where the earth was soft and spongy. 
On either side of the long road giant water-oaks 
sprawled out their sweeping arms, bearing in 
their embrace floating billows of moss that the 
tempest tossed to and fro, heaving and writhing 
to the moan of the waters and the shrieking 
winds. 

Mrs. Levering shuddered. 

“For Heaven’s sake, John, get out of this as 


56 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


soon as you can; the darkness is unendurable. 
Say, are we almost there?^’ 

‘‘See yonder, ma’am,^’ the coachman shouted 
from his box. ‘ ‘ See de light in de pines ’head ob 
us?” We will be thar mighty soon, ma’am.” 

In the dense shadows beyond a glittering eye 
of light blinked and quivered. 

‘ ‘ Oh God ! What a place ! ’ ’ Mrs. Levering ex- 
claimed as the carriage halted before a log cabin 
with a stacked chimney, close in a belt of pine 
woods. In the door there appeared an old 
woman, who held above her head a candle which 
emitted a feeble panel of light before her as she 
peered through the darkness. 

‘ ‘ T ’ank de Lord, yo ’ is come ! ’ ’ she muttered 
in a suppressed voice. ‘ ‘ De marster be praised ! 
Po’ Nan is mighty n’ar her en’. She bin callin’ 
an’ callin’ fur you, ma’am, all de time since she 
know she gwine die. ’ ’ 

“Do you really believe she is dying?” Mrs. 
Levering asked. 

“Why, to be sho’, honey, she done be trimblin’ 
on de riber ob de Lord. She gwine soon be ober ; 
so come in, ma’am, right in here, ma’am. Hush!” 
and she raised her fingers in silence and nodded 
her head toward the bed where the poor woman 
lay panting away the little remnant of life. 

It was a sad picture. On a clean low bed was 
Nanny, while on a pallet near by a child was 
lying, but not asleep. In the dim light could be 
seen her big, luminous eyes staring wonderingly 
about. As Mrs. Levering entered and took a 


A SON OP CAEOLINA 


57 


seat beside the bed the wan face of Nanny 
brightened and she tried to speak. She looked 
toward the little girl on the pallet and her lips 
parted in a vain etfort to express what she 
wanted to say. 

Mrs. Levering took her hand. 

‘‘I think I understand/’ she said. ‘‘Do yon 
give me yonr child ! ’ ’ 

“Thank Jesns!” Nanny exclaimed at last, 
gaining strength to speak. “Yes, ma ’am, please 
take her. She is yours. Don’t let her forget 
her poor ma. Keep this — give it to her some 
day. Her age — and — name you will read — ” 
and she motioned to the old woman, who took 
from beside her a little Bible which she handed 
to Mrs. Levering. 

‘ ‘ One day give her this Bible, please, ma’am. ’ ’ 

“I will promise to do all you ask, Nanny. Now 
let your mind be at rest, my poor, poor woman. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Thank God, and may He bless my poor baby 
girl, and you, too, ma’am. Be sure when she is 
big to give her the Bible, please — ” 

The exertion exhausted her. 

“I will rest now,” she murmured, falling into 
a stupor, while the old woman nearby nodded 
and rocked to and fro as she muttered incohe- 
rently. 

Through holes in the worn quilt the child 
peeped out, making visible two big, terrified 
eyes. 

“How long will she last I” Mrs. Levering 
asked in a whisper. 


58 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘^She gwine out at de break ob day. She’s 
mighty n ’ar de valley an ’ de shadow now. ’ ’ The 
old negress raised a long, gaunt finger as she 
ejaculated, ^ ‘ Hush, honey ! You hyar dat ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Hear what?” Mrs. Levering asked nerv- 
ously. 

“Wait, lissen!” 

Just then there came a rustle of wings, and 
from the outer darkness a bird flew swiftly in, 
and with a dirge-like wail or screech perched 
upon the low post of the bedstead on which 
Nanny was dying. It spread its wings, then 
drew them close with a fluttering sound, like the 
unfolding of a shroud, as it repeated its dirge- 
like song. 

“Lord hab mercy!” the old hag screamed, 
springing forward. With a swoop of her hands 
she clutched the bird fiercely, and, rushing to 
the broad fireplace, pushed it in the hollow of a 
low bed of lurid coals. Soon the burning flesh 
and feathers filled the room with their sickening 
odor. 

‘ ‘ Let me out, ’ ’ Mrs. Levering cried as she ran 
toward the door, fearing that she was with a 
lunatic, and full of terror lest she fall a victim 
to the old woman ’s fury. 

“Why, chile ! what fur yo’ skeered? Hat was 
a screech-owl, de bird of bad luck. Ef I bin put 
’m in de fire ’fore ’m screech, de power ob ebil 
den bin gone. It mean bad luck fur de libin’ an’ 
fur de dead too ; sho’ it does. Come, honey, an’ 
sot down; Granny put ’m in de coals. Hi! I’m 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


59 


mighty griebed hm get in de screech. I ’low I 
kotch ’m little too late. 

Mrs. Levering shivered as she seated herself 
on the edge of a low chair. 

‘ ‘ Do you mean that one of us in the room may 
come to some sorrow and trouble?” 

‘^Sho,’ fur sartain, miss; see, I kotch ’m too 
late. De screech dun bin sounded. Hi ! but ’m 
dun burn all de same,” and she chuckled with 
satisfaction as her brown wrinkled visage 
beamed with a sinister grin. 

‘ ‘ Day gwine break now, ’ ’ she said, shuffling to 
the bed. Placing her ear to Nanny’s face, she 
listened for a moment; then, without a word, 
this withered, labor-bowed old body crouched 
beside the dying woman in an attitude of wait- 
ing. 

Soon the struggle was over. Nanny was dead. 

The woman, seeing that the end had come, 
according to a belief among the negroes that a 
soul is at peace when started on its way by song, 
began rocking to and fro, while her eyes rolled 
upward. She sang: 

“ ‘She dun cross de ribber an’ jine de heabenly ban’, 

Glory, hallelujah! 

She sottin’ by de Lam’, while she jine de Jesus ban’, singin’ 
Glory, hallelujah !’ ” 

This dolorous refrain she crooned, while the 
winds sobbed and wailed through the pines. An 
owl, swirling its clammy wings through the shad- 
ows, perched upon the window-sill and screeched 
until dawn for its lost mate. 


CHAPTEE VII 


The sea was calm and the breeze was light on 
the morning when the good ship Valdosta was 
lying in Charleston harbor with everything pre- 
pared for a start. The warning whistle shrieked 
twice and the last bell rang. Her bowsprit was 
turned toward New York. 

‘‘All aboard P’ asked the captain. 

“All aboard, sir,’^ responded the mate. 

‘ ‘ Then stand by and let her go. ^ ’ 

The steam hissed, the sailors shonted, and the 
cordage became taut. It was the usual sight one 
witnesses when a steamer puts out to sea — the 
rush of friends and relatives, some cheering, 
others in tears, and the usual types of people 
seen at such a time. 

“Timers up!’^ exclaimed the captain, closing 
his chronometer with a snap. 

“Timers up,’’ echoed the mate. 

Like a mortal voice bidding an eternal fare- 
well, the whistle wailed its last call; the warps 
were loosed, the gangway pushed away, and the 
waters heaved and curled with their mighty bur- 
den as the ship’s machinery began to perform 
its function, to work and throb like a human 
heart to its journey’s end. 

Amid the cheering of the crowd on the quay 
a weird cry went up: “She’s done gone; po’ 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


61 


Nan dun dead an^ Gyp gone, clean gone. Dis 
po’ soul is don’ fur!” And from the deck the 
passengers saw a little old woman, brown and 
bent, waving her hands in a frenzy of grief. It 
was poor old Mammy, she who had chanted the 
soul of Nanny on its final voyage. There she re- 
mained, this little speck of black humanity, bend- 
ing to and fro like a twig in an autumn storm, 
wailing until the steamer grandly ploughed her 
way out of sight. 

Mr. and Mrs. Roy Levering stood for a while 
in silence as they watched the receding outlines 
of the city. Gypta clung tenaciously to the skirts 
of her new mistress and whimpered, muttering 
something about wanting ‘‘Mammy an’ Gran- 
ny;” but before the first day of the voyage had 
ended the child’s past life seemed to fall from 
her as some providential brush gave a swipe 
across her memory. The new scenes were to her 
like an entrance into the enchanted palace of 
the fairy children. She was a graceful, beauti- 
ful young thing, and seemed to spring into the 
hearts of all on board. During the gray, dull, 
monotonous days when the qualms of sea-sick- 
ness triumphed in its usual way, causing the 
strong to collapse, and the most worldly loving 
to pray for death, Gypta, like a chirruping, hap- 
py bird, flitted here and there, fearless, bold and 
bright, the pet of the captain and the admiration 
of all. 

“Ye pretty thing, ye be our mascot,” an old 
salt said, tapping her curly head with rough 


62 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


tenderness; ^‘but ye have a look in your big 
brown eyes that somehow almost makes me cry, 
bright and sprightly as ye be; there is sure a 
squall at sea for you. I mean, honey, that the 
pretty eyes will be full of tears one day; but 
Mother of Jesus, bless ye With this benedic- 
tion he gathered up a coil of rope and passed on. 

^^Come, I Ve something to show you, pet,’’ the 
captain said one morning, approaching Gypta. 
She sprang into his outstretched arms with a 
laugh of delight as he pointed to a line of snow- 
white birds that were curling their wings like 
bows of silver in the clear blue distance. 

‘ ‘ See, ’ ’ said the captain, ^ ^ those birds will fol- 
low us all day. Down, down they are coming. 
See?” 

‘‘Yes, I see,” answered Gypta, clapping her 
hands. ‘ ‘ Oh, they are comin ’ from heaven, where 
my mamma is. My mamma sent them to her po ’ 
little Gypta. I want’s my mamma,” she whim- 
pered, and her lips quivered as she watched the 
birds through fast-gathering tears. 

“Please take me back home, please tell the 
little birdies to tell mamma to come back. I 
want’s her now, right now.” 

“Why, little pet, what do you mean?” the 
captain asked, drawing her closer to him. “I 
thought your mother was here on board. Why, 
isn’t that your father and mother over yonder?” 
he asked, nodding toward Mr. and Mrs. Lever- 
ing, who evidently had heard the conversation. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


63 


‘ ^ Oh, no no, ^ ’ Gypta cried. ‘ ‘ They are white 
an’ I am — ” 

Before the sentence was finished, Mrs. Lever- 
ing had caught the child by the arm as she said 
somewhat petulantly, ‘‘Excuse me, captain, but 
the breeze is rather too cool for my little girl, ’ ’ 
and she hurried away. 

“Humph,” grunted the captain, “there is 
some mystery about that girl. I’ll wager you,” 
he said, turning to his mate. “If I didn’t know 
the Leverings were reputable people I’d swear 
they were abducting the child. Well, I wish she 
belonged to me ; she is the most bewitching little 
kid I ever met in all my life. I’m sorry she 
didn’t finish what she was saying before that 
keen-eared woman took her away, ’ ’ and the cap- 
tain ’s ruddy face became a shade darker under 
a cloud of earnest thought. 

In a different part of the ship Mr. Levering 
sat quietly smoking, although his mind was in 
a whirl of conflicting emotions. Nearby was his 
wife caressing the head of Gypta that nestled on 
her lap. The child was fast asleep, but the Fates 
were nearby spinning invisible threads about 
the life of the little one. Her innocence, her 
tear-wet lashes, her purring, moist lips, the ten- 
der, dimpled little body appealed with no effect 
to these destiny spinners. 

“Let’s spare her the knots and tangles,” 
Clotho said as she smoothed out the skein and 
passed it to Laches ; but crouched in the shadows 
was old Atropos, who grasped it, and with a 


64 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


chuckle relentlessly snapped it asunder. Clothe 
put aside her distaff and wept. But this was 
seen only by the mermaids and water- sprites, 
for Gypta slept on, encircled in a smoky mist 
that curled about her from Mr. Levering ^s cigar. 

tell you again, said Mrs. Levering with 
emphasis, ‘‘we had better decide this matter 
now and eternally. I am disgusted with your 
ifs and buts and all such nonsense. I repeat 
that it would be a sin to allow this child on ac- 
count of a few drops of dark blood in her veins 
to be doomed and branded as an inferior. Who 
can ever rise and point the accusing finger at 
her! No one knows anything of her past. She 
is now leaving every association. No one would 
ever suspect but that she is as pure blooded as 
you or I. Now, listen. My idea is for us to say 
that she is an orphan, the child of distinguished 
Southern people; that her mother, who was a 
schoolmate of mine, on her deathbed gave her to 
me, and we have adopted her. You have always 
said that a daughter would crown your life with 
contentment. That has been your cry for many 
years, and here is an opportunity if you will put 
aside your prejudices and swallow your qualms 
of conscience and agree with me. Now, that is 
all there is to it. We will educate her, — say at 
the Sacred Heart, near Paris, — give her a bril- 
liant debut, and — ^ ’ 

“Marry her to a lord,’’ Mr. Levering put in 
sneeringly as he puffed away at his cigar. 

“Yes, so we may, though you sneer. Look at 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


65 


that face. Were ever seen such eyes as those? 
And the nose. In fact, she is simply faultless. 
Why, everybody on the boat, old and young, has 
raved madly over her since we came aboard. 
No, no, she shall not be a castaway, an underling. 
The whole thing is planned. One day she will 
set society ablaze with her beauty ; take my word 
for it.’’ 

‘ ‘ Has it ever occurred to you, my dear, ’ ’ asked 
Mr. Levering, ^ ^ that the dark vein to which you 
allude so lightly often produces qualities deeply 
inherent and very dangerous and subtle ? I say 
once more, think well before you decide. As you 
picture it, all seems very beautiful and feasible — 
but results, my dear, results. Some wise man 
has said, ‘Whatever thou hast in hand, look well 
to the end, and thou wilt not go amiss.’ I say 
look well to the end.” 

“There you are again with your absurd rea- 
soning. I’m not afraid. I will promise you that 
there will be no regrets nor failure. You know 
as well as I know that when I play for a stake 
I usually win it. I am tired of commonplace, 
prosaic things. I want something to stimulate 
my interest. We have no children to follow into 
the world. We are becoming as dull and rusty 
as an old door hinge. Society soon will forget 
our existence. Why, that girl, when older, will 
be a power. Under her youthful influence I 
will awake as a grub does when spring wings it 
into a butterfly. Decide now and let us at once 
begin to make her forget all past associations. I 


66 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


come to a conclusion, and intuitively know if it 
is right or wrong ; and when I make up my mind 
I do not change.’^ 

‘‘That^s a fact I^m well aware of, my dear, 
so I had better not exhaust my vitality in further 
argument. I confess I should hate to see the 
child with so many attractions become nothing 
more than a servant and a drudge. ’ ’ 

‘^So suppose we decide the matter as settled 
now and forever,’’ and he arose, while Mrs. Lev- 
ering kissed the face of Gr'ypta with such pas- 
sionate emphasis that the child opened her big 
eyes in wonder. Without speaking, Mr. Lever- 
ing caught her in his arms and pressed her face 
against her own. ^‘My little child, my little 
daughter, ’ ’ he murmured, ^ M do love you dearly ; 
yes, dearly.” 

Thank God!” Mrs. Levering said, putting 
her arms around her husband and the child. 
‘ ^ Our little daughter ! ’ ’ and her eyes became dim 
with tears. 

In all his years of married life no such emo- 
tion of tenderness had Mr. Levering ever seen 
his wife display. 

‘Mt may soften her and she may become less 
cold and cynical,” he thought. ^‘Possibly the 
child will bring to her nature love and gentle- 
ness.” 

Stimulated by this thought, he caught his 
wife ’s hand, which he put to his lips and kissed 
several times with feeling. ‘‘Our little daugh- 
ter,” he murmured; “I now have not only a 


A SON OF CAROLINA 67 

beautiful wife, but a lovely little girl, all my 
own.’^ 

The evils of transmitted taint and hereditary 
influence were forgotten in the infinite tender- 
ness this man and woman suddenly felt for the 
little waif, now their adopted daughter. 

‘^We must at once begin to teach her to recog- 
nize us as her parents,’^ Mrs. Levering sug- 
gested. 

‘‘Gypta, say, M love you my mother and fa- 
ther. I ’m your little daughter. ’ ^ ’ 

The child started a little and looked puzzled. 

‘ ‘ Do you hear, Gypta ? Do as I tell you, ’ ^ was 
said in a firm and commanding voice. 

Here her eyes became humid in their dark 
depths as she looked up for a moment, then pout- 
ing petulantly said, ‘^No, no, wonT say dat;’’ 
but noticing the pained expression of both faces 
bending above her, an impulse of tenderness 
moved her, and putting out her arms between 
kisses she exclaimed, ^‘Father and mudder, I^s 
yo^ little daughter.’’ 

At this the Fates gathered up the flax and dis- 
tatf and began again to spin on this piece of hu- 
man tapestry, as with its melting breath of 
steam and its trail of froth the ship moved on — 
on — on. 

With the end of this voyage the life of Gypta 
began. The past fell from her as a cast-off 
shell; and as the months merged into years, 
marking the transition of childhood into woman- 


68 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


hood, she accepted her environment of wealth 
and luxury as naturally as if she had been born 
to them, and graced the position in which she 
moved as if it had been hers by heritage and 
birth. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Throngs of curious men and women had gath- 
ered in front of the Levering residence, which 
was ablaze with light. The equipages of so- 
ciety’s elect stood four abreast before the door. 

Gypta, the adopted daughter of Roy Levering, 
the wealthy banker, after several years’ resi- 
dence abroad, was to make her debut into the 
social world of New York’s four hundred. Much 
had been said in the gay circles regarding the 
wondrous beauty of the debutante, and society 
was on the tiptoe of expectancy, eager to see the 
new queen of the smart set. 

The night was cold, and the sleet made the 
scantily dressed poor shudder and shiver as they 
passed to and fro and saw within the glow and 
warmth and heard the strains of music, and 
caught the perfume that floated through the 
great bronze doors that opened to admit fash- 
ion’s throng. 

A little child with violet eyes and tangled hair 
passed by, and as she lingered to look and 
leaned against the stone steps to watch the bril- 
liant scene, she cried to her half-starving mother, 
who staggered under the weight of woe and 
want, Mother, I see God’s house and His an- 
gels, and I hear the golden harps. Ask God to 
let us in, for I am cold and hungry.” 


70 


A SON OP CAROLINA 


^‘Husli!^’ exclaimed the mother, grasping the 
child almost cruelly, and hurrying her on. 

‘ ^ God ’s house ! Alas, it is a gilded mockery — 
a glittering hell! I was in it once,^^ the woman 
bitterly cried as she went on her way murmur- 
ing in a half-crazed way at the injustice of fate. 

^‘Ha, ha! so you call it because you have lost 
your place in it, ^ ^ a tall gaunt creature beside her 
said with a malicious nudge. ‘‘It’s paradise lost, 
which means hell gained. I guess if you could 
jostle in, and elbow with the grandees, and strike 
hands with the rich, you would, wouldn’t you! 
A gilded hell because it is no longer yours ! ’ ’ 

The woman gathered her bedraggled skirts 
and passed on, and the throng surged to and fro ; 
some with envy gnawing at their hearts, while 
others, like the little child, saw the glory of 
heaven through the door which closed upon 
them. 

Within the mansion there was a scene of soft 
animation and polished mirth. The spacious 
drawing-rooms soon felt the incoming rush of 
the social tide and were filled with a brilliant, 
buzzing crowd, with pleasant laughter and sweet 
voices. The fashionable magnates sat down, or 
stood about in the very best humor. 

Beneath an ingeniously arranged floral can- 
opy Gypta stood to receive her guests. This was 
her caprice; she refused to entertain in any 
tjther way. 

“Conventionalities, I detest,” she declared, 
“and I refuse to become a paper doll, to be 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


71 


clipped and trimmed and mounted just as thou- 
sands have been before. A mere pasteboard, 
scissored and whacked to please the crowds 
She had refused to wear the innocent, snowy 
gown and pearls and immaculate rosebuds pre- 
scribed for the debutante by good form. An au- 
dacious, reckless ecstasy precluded the possibili- 
ty of such conventional bandage or automatic be- 
havior, usually adhered to by the sweet, shrink- 
ing young creatures who dimple and simper as, 
fortified on either side by mamma and papa, they 
make their initial bow to society. 

The untrammeled soul and the wild romanti- 
cism of her nature made her more than ever a 
social rebel that night, and though she might 
have to pay the price for her vagaries and bear 
the criticism of the bescissored and pasteboard 
element of the community, she pouted her thick 
red lips and ordered the florists to construct a 
veritable tropical bower that would glisten with 
palm spears and blaze with cactus blooms and 
lotus blossoms, so fragrant that they would lan- 
guish through the intoxication of drinking in 
their own breath. ‘^Let your skill scale all your 
former achievements,^’ said she to the florist, 
who all but tore his hair, and beat his breast in 
bewilderment. ‘^Construct an arch or canopy 
so natural that for the time one will forget the 
frescoed ceilings, the pictures, the statuary, and 
all else that suggests what is called high civili- 
zation. Just imagine you’re making a niche in 


72 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


the jungle for a Zulu queen. Forget women in 
stiff evening gowns, and men in full-dress suits. 

‘^No, I’m not crazy,” she smilingly said, in 
reply to the agonized look of inquiry that shone 
in the bulged blue eyes of Monsieur Men jet, the 
master florist, who never before had received 
orders for such unconventional and remarkable 
decorations. 

That night marked an elegant epoch in the so- 
cial history of New York in the early eighties, 
and those persons who happened to be guests 
at the debut reception of the Eoy Leverings to 
this day recall with a breathless start how thier 
senses were stunned for the moment at the splen- 
dor of that scene. How amid the glittering arti- 
ficiality Gypta stood and held her social court, 
clad in a costume at variance with all creeds of 
fashion, among decorations that defied the pre- 
vailing and established rules of floral embel- 
lishment. 

Beneath this floral arch of palms and waving 
maze of color Gypta received her guests. So 
much a part of it, she seemed a creature of the 
tropics. Her low brow and her skin with the 
rich creamy whiteness of the magnolia, and lips 
arched with sensual thickness, moist and scarlet 
as though she had bitten deep into a living heart, 
suggested in color the warmth and wildness of 
the jungle. And her eyes! No one on whom 
those eyes once looked is apt to recall aught else. 
Heavy lidded and velvety with slumbrous ten- 
derness, yet holding a spark far in the sombre 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


73 


depths that could leap with the glare and glitter 
of the beast at bay — eyes and lips the incarna- 
tion of passion, a passion that kindled centuries 
ago in the heart of the tropics. 

The gleam of wax lights fell warm and lov- 
ingly upon her, sending the jeweled serpent that 
girded her waist, writhing and glittering in the 
diaphanous drapery that wrapped her like a 
summer sunset, filmy and golden. A great dap- 
pled tiger-skin lay crouching beneath, and fon- 
dling her sandled feet, feet firm and smooth as 
ivory, exquisitely turned and dimpled — feet that 
touched the key of critical mechanism, and put 
eyes and tongues into motion, because those feet, 
save for a pair of jeweled sandals, were unques- 
tionably bare. 

‘ ^ She ^s too dark, and excessively vulgar. See ! 
my dear innocent girls are actually blushing and 
shivering at the bold offense to their modesty, 
exclaimed Madame Pierpont Doyle as she 
nodded to said innocent maidens of several sea- 
sons, who with several ‘^Ohs^’ and simpering 
shrugs fell beneath the protection of mamma, 
who stood in voluminous majesty, fanning vig- 
orously with her gorgeous fan spread to its full 
capacity, while she excitedly expressed to each 
approaching guest her disapproval of such dra- 
matic sensationalism. 

‘‘Why doesn’t she dress like other debutantes 
of good form, in a silk gown of snug, decent fit, 
instead of poising a la Cleopatra, half nude, with 
bare feet, on the skin of an animal. She’s too 


74 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


stagy for anything. Dears, I’d not wound the 
feelings of our hostess for worlds, by leaving at 
once ; that would be very bad form ; suppose you 
go into the conservatory among the flowers until 
mamma does the honors of the occasion.” 
Whereupon the two dears rather reluctantly fled 
for protection to the Adamless Eden of palms 
and roses, while men gathered en masse around 
Gypta, who received them, and as by some potent 
spell held them under the power of her influence 
with such subtle sway that politic parents be- 
came hopeless, and belles, whose previous sway 
had been supreme, became powerless. Gypta ’s 
presence was as though an electric light had 
been turned full upon flickering candles and oil 
lamps. All other women felt impotent to cope 
with this audacious beauty, whose glance alone 
they realized could most etfectually demolish 
their long-studied methods of matrimonial con- 
quest. 

^AVhen my Caroline Lillian made her debut 
she was the purest, loveliest creature I ever 
saw. So modestly and genteely attired ; every- 
body said so,” and Mrs. Bridgeport Allen sipped 
daintily from her cup, supposedly chocolate, but 
her expression conveyed the idea of distilled 
aloes as her companion, Mrs. Guy Livingston, 
tapped her lips with a reminiscent pause. 

Let’s see — why yes, I remember, in fact, I 
was there. Wasn’t it about — about — er — ten 
years ago — Oh yes ! One can plainly see that 
your daughter is a very fastidious girl. Ahem ! 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


75 


I wonder what his Honor, onr English cousin, 
Lord What^s-his-name, thinks of Gypta Lever- 
ing, anyway. He has been examining her with 
his one glass for the past ten minutes, as though 
she were a new specimen under scientific treat- 
ment. The indications are that he is deeply in- 
terested.^’ 

‘‘Pooh, pooh!” returned Mrs. Bridgeport Al- 
len ; “ he ’s of the opinion of every right-thinking 
person in the room.” 

“Not a bit of it ! He, like all the men here, is 
stunned into a lunacy of admiration. I’ve never 
in all the years of my social life seen such a 
definite hit as the girl’s made tonight. Were 
she my daughter I ’d be the proudest woman in 
New York.” 

“Pshaw! but Mrs. Levering is at the back of 
it all, of course. She’s a society magician, a 
veritable social genius. Now take my word for 
it, before another year passes she will have that 
girl married to a duke or a lord, or a — Ah, 
there comes the lord! Heavens, I don’t mean 
that lord,” and her eyes twinkled mirthfully, as 
Mrs. Bridgeport Allen grew impressively mag- 
nificent, and her ample form expanded to its full 
development in a gown of purple moire. 

“Ah, charmed to meet you again, dear Lord 
Hulinbery,” she bubbled effusively. “But I 
see you, like we of best form, are shocked at our 
friend’s audacious and novel mode of entertain- 
ment. Shocking ! shocking ! I ’m sure in all Eng- 
land you’ve never before seen a debutante with 


76 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


such absolute di sregard for the conventional. ^ ^ 
Pardon, madam, really 1 do not under- 
stand.’^ 

‘‘I mean — er — for instance, she is costumed, 
in such — such — er — er — ethereal drapery — 
eh!?” and the rotund face blushed behind the 
sweeping plumes of her fan. 

Lord Dulinbery rearranged his monocle with 
precision. 

‘‘Magnificent crechah! No such did I ever 
see in England or anywhere else — doncher know. 
Madam! Pahfectly stunning shoulders. You 
ladies say she ought to wear — er — wear more 
stylish clothes, but pon my word I don’t think 
so, doncher know. He, he ! that is what I weally 
don’t think.” 

“Yes, and that is just what I was telling this 
dear lady here, that you, like the rest of the men, 
were in raptures over the girl. Isn’t it so?” 

“Well, bah Jove! Mrs. Livingston, I think 
you are pahfectly wight, and in London she was 
weally the wage. No doubt, had she not left so 
soon, she’d been the queen of many London 
dwaing-rooms. Beg pahdon, she’s looking this 
way ; I ’ll try and get one word at least from the 
magnificent crechah. ’ ’ 

With a glance toward the lord’s retreating 
figure, Mrs. Bridgeport Allen’s nose quivered as 
she uttered an indignant snarl. 

“Lord or no lord, he’s an idiot, that’s all I 
have to say. Deliver me from those weak-eyed 
men, with hair and beard the color of almond 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


77 


shells, and a lisp as if they were eating eider- 
down ! He ’s absurd ! I detest him ! ^ ^ 

‘ ^ Ah, but my dear woman, what he says is true. 
I have heard — and on good authority — that Lon- 
don went wild over her, and Lord Clifton actu- 
ally followed her everywhere, and wound up by 
w-anting to marry her, and she was but a school- 
girl at that time.^^ 

‘ ‘ Tut, tut ! You needn T tell me any such non- 
sense. No foreign title will ever be exchanged 
for an American girl with thick lips and uncer- 
tain dower — take my word for that. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Guy Livingston stood looking across the 
room, seeming not to hear a word addressed to 
her. 

^^Just as I predicted,’^ she suddenly ex- 
claimed, ^ ^ Emon Hamlin has succumbed. I knew 
the time would surely come. Behold ! ^ ^ 

This remark caused a sensation of suppressed 
excitement. Necks were craned to their last 
limit of endurance. Lorgnettes were lifted, and 
hands went up in amazement that Emon Hamlin, 
the long- sought, much-desired, mummy-hearted 
multi-millionaire banker, should now give un- 
questionable evidence of complete surrender and 
undisguised infatuation to this girl who thus in- 
solently tossed aside conventionalism and 
vaunted her vagaries in the face of the best ele- 
ment of New York swelldom. 

‘HsnT it too horrid for anything, that a 
woman whom nobody knows should come here 
and in one night make fools of our most exclu- 


78 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


sive and desirable men I I don^t care what the 
lisping lord says, I don’t believe she would be 
tolerated in London. I confess her self-poise is 
amazing, and — ” The sentence was unfinished 
as the hostess fioated magnificently across the 
floor. 

‘^What are you all saying about my girl?” she 
asked effusively, with a sweeping glance. ‘‘Isn’t 
she a miracle of a debutante! Heavens! I’m 
wildly proud of her ! Isn’t she charmingly orig- 
inal? And you may not believe it,” Mrs. Roy 
Levering continued softly, as she smoothed the 
ribbon on the sleeve of her guest with gentle fa- 
miliarity, “but really everything, decorations, 
costume and, in fact, the entire entertainment 
was devised by the dear child. I had to stand 
silent before her, she’s so intensely original, 
and such a genius ! It’s true her manner is dra- 
matic in the extreme, but I think at the same 
time just as simple and unstudied as a village 
child gathering berries. Don’t you think so, 
General ? ” 

“Yes, my dear madam,” assented General 
Baring, bending over Mrs. Levering, and lower- 
ing his voice; “but while your charming Lotus 
Bud is neither a village child nor a berry gath- 
erer, she has secured the biggest and finest plum 
in the matrimonial market,” and he arched lus 
brows and winked significantly toward Hamlin, 
whose attentions to Gypta had become a decided 
sensation. 

Madam was so pleased by this compliment 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


79 


that a faint tinge of genuine color softened and 
mellowed her artfully rouged cheeks. 

^^Why, General, the women say he is as une- 
motional as a tenth century mummy, or as arctic- 
hearted as a Laplander. Fresh young girls and 
handsome widows galore have grown hopeless 
over him. I know this to be a fact — and you 
really think my little girl — er — F’ 

^‘Yes, Madam, I do think ^your little girl — 
er — ’ has him soul and body under her foot as 
securely as she has that animal skin on which 
she so magnificently stands. IFs a case of the 
mummy, according to Yamama^s evolutionary 
theory, after a few thousand years falling be- 
neath its allotted vivifying current. That^s the 
way Yamama would explain it. Ha, ha ! Yes, 
your Lotus Bud has surely completed the full 
circuit in Hamlin ^s destiny. Now, Madam, I^m 
no apostle of Yamama, or any such occult idiocy, 
but I know Hamlin, know him like a book — ^who- 
ever saw him look at a woman like that, or talk 
to one more than ten minutes on a dead level? 
Nobody on God^s earth. Come, leCs see how 
she dances. They Ve started to the ball-room.’^ 

Those who saw their hostess, on the arm of 
General Baring, pass through the rooms, con- 
cluded that their conversation must have been 
exceedingly agreeable, by the smile on her face 
and the approving glance with which her eyes 
turned now" and then up into the highly distin- 
guished face of her escort. 

^‘Hid you hear what the old general said!’^ 


80 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


asked Mrs. Bridgeport Allen. ‘ ‘ I saw him whis- 
pering to her in a very confidential way about 
something. I suppose he is deluding our hos- 
tess into believing she will be the mother-in-law 
to multi-millions. Now any one of judgment 
knows that if Emon Hamlin ever does fall in 
love it will not be with a material, stagy crea- 
ture, but with some gentle Madonna like Mary 
or Martha. Come, pray let^s see how she 
dances. ’ ’ 

‘‘Very well,’’ assented Mrs. Guy Livingston; 
“but first glance over at old Mrs. Dangton, she’s 
all veneer and paint. I vow she reminds me of 
an enameled skull I once saw in Antwerp — 
there ’s something so terrible in a wrinkled face 
under artificial calcimine. When I think of my 
mother’s gentle face, old age seems sweet and 
restful, and I’m reconciled to growing old — but 
somehow such a warfare with Time, such a 
struggle with Dye, Paint-pots and all such 
weapons seems terrible to me. Some people 
make Old Age approach as a monster. It’s 
dreadful. Oh, she gives me the creeps!” and 
the beautiful shoulders shrugged with emphasis. 

“Pooh! Catherine, you’re just the woman to 
start the battle with the discovery of the initial 
strand of gray hair. Why, there’s an unusual 
number of the dancing-set here. More than half 
are going to the ballroom. I can well imagine 
how she dances,” and wdth inflated importance 
Mrs. Bridgeport Allen gathered up her volumi- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


81 


nous skirts, adjusted her train, tossed back her 
head, and led the way to the ballroom. 

In the mean time, Gypta was on the floor with 
Captain Darcy, the handsome young bachelor, 
and by far the most graceful waltzer in the room. 
As if in a drowsy dream of delight, she moved 
through the mazes of the waltz with swelling 
bosom and voluptuous grace. Her white teeth 
glittered, her red lips seemed to palpitate, and 
her rounded limbs gleamed like alabaster 
through the filmy tissue robe. Her eyes grew 
darker, with a subtle flashing glory, while her 
body swayed with a certain rhythmic measure, 
as though she were keeping time to music no one 
save herself heard. Most of the dancers on the 
floor ceased dancing and watched her, as though 
hypnotized by her unconscious and ravishing 
grace. 

The women shrugged and winced, and nudged 
one another, while the men grouped about Gypta, 
forgetting the presence of them all. 

Mrs. Bridgeport Allen sent a curious glance 
roving around the room. 

^ ‘Just as I imagined, ’ ’ she commented. ‘ ‘ She 
dances with the abandon of an Abyssinian slave- 
girl. IDs shocking! shocking! But thank heav- 
ens, I see at last she’s off the floor.” 

Here the music ceased, and Gypta stood silent 
a moment, as if her thoughts had taken a distant 
tour. 

“I’d give more than the hackneyed penny for 
your thoughts, Miss Levering,” said Captain 


82 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Darcy. ‘‘For ten minutes Vve been talking to 
you, and your attentions to that vicious-looking, 
make-believe snake about your waist seem to be 
of more interest to you than anything I can 
say. ’ ’ 

“Oh really,’^ she replied with mocking sym- 
pathy. “You can not blame me, can you. Cap- 
tain Darcy I Now I’m going to tell you in the 
beginning, I’m proof against your vocabulary 
of flattering little speeches, of which you are a 
pastmaster, I understand. I also know you to 
be the most popular man in our set. I infer 
you ’ve won your popularity on the score of say- 
ing agreeable things. Most women like it. Men 
do, too. But here is one woman who can no more 
be moved by pretty compliments than can this 
poor little reptile of which you are so jealous be 
made to live by the magic of my touch.” And 
Gypta smiled. No one could resist Cax)tain 
Darcy’s laughing eyes, with their fearless auda- 
cious twinkle. 

“Now, I’m sure your touch could vivify a ser- 
pent of stone or one that has been asleep in the 
rocks of Babylon for a million years. Were I 
a snake, and one of adamant, I would be rein- 
carnated into an angel of light by your touch. 
’Pon my word, I mean that. Miss Levering. Now 
tell me of what you were thinking,” and Darcy’s 
voice took on an earnest tone. “I mean when 
you left the floor, and a dozen men were talking 
to you, and there was a far-ofP look in your eyes, 


A SON OF CAROLINA 83 

and yon paid not the least attention to any 
of us.^’ 

^ ‘ Oh ! Captain Darcy, you’d never understand, 
but when I dance I feel as though the light and 
the walls, and everything conventional, were not 
in harmony with my feelings. I want space. I 
want freedom. Dress-suits and rich gowns seem 
incongruous. For that reason I determined to 
have this, the one important night of my life, in 
accordance, to a limited extent I mean — express 
my feelings — my inner soul love for the uncon- 
ventional — a longing for something real. I 
didn’t get at all angry,” she continued with a 
tantalizing pout, ‘^when I heard that handsome 
lady over there — the one wearing gray puffs 
and purple moire — whisper to Mrs. Guy Living- 
ston, that, judging by my penchant for the law- 
less in decoration and costume and my shocking 
style, I must be the descendant of some barbaric 
ancestor. Now, of course she didn’t know I 
heard her ; yet I almost agree with Mrs. Madame 
purple moire. I feel at times as though one side 
of my nature belonged to the fields and the for- 
est, and the other — ah, well! Now it’s useless 
to attempt to explain what I mean — for I see by 
your expression you do not catch my idea, but 
I knew you wouldn ’t. ’ ’ 

^^Well, this much I confess I understand,” 
said Darcy. 

Gypta’s eyes regarded him seriously. 

‘‘That your originality is fascinating. You’re 
unlike any woman I’ve ever seen.” 


84 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^^Now, you men had better get out a copyright 
on your little pet speeches. I Ve heard that same 
thing at least a dozen times tonight. But really, 
Captain Darcy, I’m beginning to believe it’s 
true. ’ ’ 

Yes, it is certainly true,” Captain Darcy as- 
sented, as he looked Gypta full in the face. 
‘‘Now, suppose,” said he, “I say you are a du- 
plex being, and your eyes — ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, spare me. Captain Darcy ! ’ ’ cried Gypta, 
shielding her face with her hands. 

“Write a poem on the taper of my little finger, 
on my tip- tilted nose, but spare me the old, old 
story of the eye. Do you see that young man 
over there?” she asked, nodding her head — 
“the one of the unfledged gosling type, with the 
misty down about his lips and hair the color of 
fresh pine shavings ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, but what of him?” asked Darcy impa- 
tiently. 

“Why, the first thing after being introduced 
to me he assumed the languid, world-weary look, 
that always reminds me of a rag doll iiut on its 
feet; if you have a sister who had such a doll 
you surely can recall the limp inactivity of its 
limbs. Do you not ? ’ ’ 

Darcy looked straight at her, but did not re- 
ply. 

She continued, “As I was saying, a few mo- 
ments after our introduction he gazed at me with 
an expression on his face suggestive of one who 
is tossed on the briny deep in the throes of 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


85 


mal de mer. ‘Miss Levering/ lie said in weak, 
asthmatic tones, ‘you are so restful to me; I 
have a yearning, a weariness, a void in me like 
that akin to pain, but the liquid light from your 
eyes brings me relief/ 

“ ‘Ah, that is too bad, Mr. Downyhead,’ I 
exclaimed. ‘I think some squills or possibly 
some soothing-syrup would probably prove more 
efficacious. ’ In a moment he regained his youth- 
ful activity and wildly plunged for the door — 
disgusted with me of course ; but then I couldn’t 
resist the opportunity of saying what I knew his 
sister or his mother would appreciate. He’ll be 
a better and a wiser boy hereafter. ’ ’ 

“Now, I didn’t know there was an atom of 
cruelty in your nature,” Darcy said, laughing. 

‘ ‘ But remember, according to Madame purple 
moire, I have a strain of the barbarian in me. 
I fear I’ve also made an enemy of another one 
of our guests. Do you see the very large man 
leaning opposite, with the very small gauze fan 
which he took from Miss Vandiver? He’s ex- 
hausting his vitality in the effort to create a 
breeze — with about the same result as the ele- 
phant that fanned himself with the wing of a 
humming bird. ’ ’ 

“Do you mean Judge Barton, the man of 
many wives ? ’ ’ 

“Yes, and I understand the fob-chain he wears 
so conspicuously represents his loyalty to each 
dear departed — four in number. Do you notice 


86 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


the prismatic effect 1 The blending as it were of 
black, red, brown and blonde?^’ 

Darcy bowed, smiling. 

‘ ^ I was going to tell you, he was another who 
admired my eyes and informed me of the fact 
just five minutes after we met.’^ 

‘‘What did he sayT^ 

‘ ‘ Say ? Oh, dear ! I wish you could have heard 
him — he was so rude — but I was also ruder than 
I ever was or ever again expect to be. Why! 
would you believe he brought his face almost 
against my cheek, and in a bubbling voice purred 
out, ‘Tell me. Star Bright, what on God’s earth 
is softer than the light in your eyes! Tell me, 
pray. ’ 

“ ‘Nothing, sir, save this,’ and suiting the ac- 
tion to the word, I tapped his head lightly with 
my fan. I actually did. Captain Darcy. But 
oh! I was so mortified, the next moment, I’d 
have made amends had he given me the chance, 
which he did not. He, like Mr. Downyhead, 
made for the other end of the room. He hasn’t 
noticed me since. ’ ’ 

Here Gypta relaxed into silence as the circle 
about her widened. Her eyelids drooped until 
the sweeping lashes touched her cheeks, which 
suddenly flushed damask. A sweet shyness lent 
to her the witchery of simplicity, sharply con- 
trasting with her regal poise and self-posses- 
sion. It was this infinite variety of moods and 
chameleon-like changefulness that were so puz- 
zling to those who fell beneath her influence. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


87 


flatter myself that I understand you, Miss 
Levering, I think far better than any one you Ve 
met tonight, Emon Hamlin said softly as he 
approached nearer, without visible emotion, yet 
liis heart expanding with almost torturing pas- 
sion. ‘‘Yes,’’ said he, “it’s plain to me that 
you’re not a woman to be automatically moved 
by the edicts of fashion, or pulled by a social 
wire as a puppet to dance and smile in accord- 
ance with the whims of society — and yet I know 
you are already renowned as a fashionable 
woman. ’ ’ 

“Then you do not like our gay, giddy world 
of society!” Gypta asked, looking up into Ham- 
lin’s face, that was suddenly animated with a 
light, as General Baring had truthfully ex- 
pressed it, no one on the Lord’s earth had ever 
seen there before. 

Hamlin complacently folded and unfolded his 
hands several times. 

‘ ‘ Society, ’ ’ said he musingly, — ‘ ‘ according to 
my construction of the word, I mean what the 
highest form of society should represent, — yes, 
I like it, like it very much. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Do you intimate, Mr. Hamlin, that our socie- 
ty of to-day falls below your ideal standard!” 
Gypta asked slowly and with well-assumed pet- 
ulance. 

“I will leave you to judge of that. Miss Lev- 
ering, after I state what in my opinion it should 
represent. ’ ’ 


88 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘^Well, tell me please; I^m anxious to see it 
from your point of view. ^ ^ 

‘ ‘ Certainly, ^ ’ assented Hamlin. He continued 
in low, smooth tones, ‘‘Society of to-day is the 
result of an upheaval. The civil war has given 
it a terrific shock, and we are controlled by a 
class who by accident acquired wealth and have 
forged their way to the front ; that means social 
power. This condition is unforunate in the ex- 
treme. It gives the reins to a class who have 
little understanding of or regard for the elegant 
courtesies that should characterize all social in- 
tercourse. But, to be brief, the best element of 
the Old South society typifies my highest ideal; 
they as a people observe with the most unerring 
tact the amenities of life. In other words, it is 
the association of well-bred people, whose men- 
tal friction is stimulating and elevating, and 
whose innate refinement precludes the possibil- 
ity of violating the higher ethics of life. It cer- 
tainly requires a great deal of culture, and, I re- 
peat, the most consummate tact, and — here 
Hamlin paused. “Pardon me, I^m becoming 
prolix, I did not mean to tire you. ^ ’ 

Gypta smiled sceptically. “I^m not tired, but 
on the contrary I^m immensely interested. But 
please let me add, I speak from experience, that 
in my opinion the requirements for social suc- 
cess are a trifle ditferent from what you have 
mentioned. Just add to tact, endurance, physi- 
cal vigor, nerve — self-abnegation, self-crucifix- 
ion, and the capacity to wear a mask that smiles 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


89 


and simpers and flatters at will, even though you 
are suffocating, and every fibre of your being 
and throb of your heart is crying out, off with it, 
off with it! Gracious, I^m getting dramatic! 
That’s what mother tells me when I’m exces- 
sively earnest or emphatic. But then I can not 
be smooth and negatively calm, which is also a 
requirement of best form. ’ ’ She gave this with 
a little grimace of disgust, and laughed. 

Hamlin did not smile. His forehead creased 
with lines of pain. His face for the moment 
looked older. 

“Now, pardon me for becoming personal, Miss 
Levering, but you do not belong to such a condi- 
tion. From the moment I was presented to you 
and looked into your face you impressed me as a 
rare type of nature’s wild and untrammeled 
species.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, thank you very much, ’ ’ Gypta said with 
a broadening half-smile upon her parted lips. 
“A wild-cat possibly, or a beautifully marked 
rattlesnake with ten rattles. Is that the species 
I reminded you of, Mr. Hamlin ? ’ ’ 

Darcy and the other men would have thought 
this speech quite amusing, but not so with Ham- 
lin, who frowned disapprovingly on her frivol- 
ity, but only for a moment. 

“Oh, no, no! I mean,” said he, “you brought 
to my mind the woods and fields and all such 
things. I ’m from the country, and I don ’t think 
one ever loses the influences that environed him 
in early life, go where he may. I fear I cannot 


90 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


make plain what I would say, but you recall — 

^‘Oh, yes, I am sure. You mean crows, corn- 
shocks, and soft-footed cattle moving in lily- 
padded frog-pools. Ah ! listen, and I will give 
you the latest news from Arcady.^’ Gypta^s 
eyes twinkled as she raised them to the ceiling 
with atfected gravity. 

A piteous chalky whiteness swept over Ham- 
lin ^s face and his effort to smile was a dead fail- 
ure. He felt himself the target of ridicule, which 
in another moment would have been resented by 
leaving Gypta’s side, never to return. With 
ready wit she divined this. She saw him shrink 
as if touched by a lash as he regarded her with 
a look as cold and penetrating as chilled steel. 

‘‘Oh, dear me! In my effort to be amusing 
IVe offended. Pardon me, Mr. Hamlin. I for- 
got that we were strangers. None of my friends 
ever take offense at my stupidity. I forgot, you 
see. Will you forgive me? I’ll never be so silly 
again — never. Yes, I know you will forgive me, ’ ’ 
she repeated in her low, caressing voice. 

“Forgive you?” he said, looking down stead- 
ily and gravely, yet in a moment with such re- 
newed tenderness that Gypta looked away and 
flicked the seriousness of his manner with an 
impatient movement of her head. 

“Come! Let’s go where we can talk,” he said 
with a commanding firmness that Gypta did not 
resist. 

“I want to talk to you, you, your real self. 
Ten minutes in the quiet of the conservatory will 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


91 


afford me a better opportunity of knowing you 
than an entire evening in this buzzing and glare. 
The best of us become flagrant counterfeits in 
such crowds.’’ 

‘‘Yes, and with the enchantment of distant 
music, and amid all the perfume and silence we 
are apt to be swayed by our emotions rather than 
by our better judgment, and we say many things 
that fail to stand when brought to the cold white- 
light of a practical day. Don’t you think so!” 
Gypta asked with a provoking smile, uncon- 
scious of the fact that most of the men were 
watching her with surprise and chagrin ; and the 
women with envy, as on Hamlin’s arm she 
passed out of the room. 

‘ ‘ W ell, I hope you ’re happy now. ’ ’ Mrs. Lev- 
ering ’s voice was desperate, but subdued, as she 
approached her husband, who was alone in the 
smoking-room. 

“Happy about what!” he asked, pufling a 
dome of smoke toward the ceiling. 

“Why, you are dull as a lobster not to see 
that our game has opened with a flush hand. 
Don ’t you know that Gyp has Emon Hamlin se- 
cure! He’s already madly in love; everybody 
notices it. Boy, take my word for it, Emon 
Hamlin will call me mother-in-law in less than 
many months. ’ ’ 

“Lord pity him!” Levering said, heaving a 
sigh. 

“But see here, my dear, putting all joking 
aside, I hope there’s some truth in what you say. 


92 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


If Hamlin’s attentive to a woman it means some- 
thing — no one has ever known him to single one 
woman out in particular, although the poor man 
has been besieged by every age and condition of 
womankind. Now, of course I saw Hamlin was 
pleased with Gyp — but heavens alive ! I hn not 
fool enough to feel sure of favorable results just 
yet. But if the thing can me managed it means 
a godsend for us. ’ ’ And a surge of relief, at the 
thought, rushed over his face. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! I know all that. We Ve talked it over — 
how many times, I wonder — but I only thought 
I’d tell you. If Gyp will but play the cards she 
now holds, the game is ours. ’ ’ 

‘ ^ But there ’s the question, will she ! ’ ’ 

“What do you mean?” she asked, a fierce 
light in her eyes. 

‘ ‘ I mean that Gyp will never be bought. Un- 
less she loves a man, all the powers of earth 
couldn ’t persuade her to marry him. ’ ’ 

“Love!” Mrs. Levering sneered the word. 
“You make the girl out an idiot. Don ’t say any- 
thing about that now,” was said in a tone that 
could not be disobeyed. “But, Roy, putting 
aside that nonsense, remember you’re to do your 
part.” She did not wait for her husband’s re- 
ply, but with her head a degree higher, and 
shoulders well back, she returned to the draw- 
ing-rooms, and crossed over to where a group of 
her guests were gathered around a magnificent 
marble that adorned one of the rooms. It was 
a replica of Story’s Cleopatra, and over it was 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


93 


arranged a crimson canopy that imparted to the 
marble a life-like glow. 

‘‘Now, what do you suppose we’re saying 
about your very charming daughter?” one of 
the women asked. 

“Why, something very delightful of course.” 
Her metallic little laugh followed her words. 

“We’re just remarking the resemblance be- 
twen Gypta and this statue. You remember 
when she arrived from abroad a reporter who 
caught a glimpse of her described her in Fash- 
ion's Mirror as possessing the dusky beauty of 
Cleopatra?” 

“Oh, yes, I do remember,” said Mrs. Lever- 
ing in a colorless voice, clearing her throat nerv- 
ously. Any allusion to the olive-tinge of the 
girl’s complexion or the beauty of the purple- 
black curls that clustered about her head in such 
profusion always gave Mrs. Levering a vague 
fear and a desire to change the subject. 

‘ ‘ How well I remember Gypta as a little girl, ’ ’ 
persisted the loquacious Mrs. Kempton. “It was 
on your arrival from the South ; she wore a little 
crimson cloak and cap ; her wondering eyes for- 
ever afterward haunted me. You called her your 
little rebel. Don ’t you remember ? ’ ’ 

Mrs. Eoy Levering ’s brow contracted for a 
moment. 

“Oh, yes,” said she, triumphantly. “Carlo 
Dono also declared that she was a rare type of 
patrician Southern beauty. He said to me: 
‘Madame, your little charge has brought in her 


94 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


cheeks and brow the cream from the chalice of 
the magnolia, and in her lips the wine from the 
heart of the oleander. She is a tropical flower 
that will warm many a cold heart. ’ ’ ^ 

^‘How charming all the women exclaimed. 

^^Oh, but hear what de Rene said to Lord 
Craven, who was an enthusiastic admirer of my 
Gypta when we were abroad. The great artist 
had just finished her portrait, — the one you all 
have seen, — the only satisfactory picture ever 
painted of her. Lord Craven gazed at it in 
rapture, and said to the painter: ‘What eyes! 
How could you paint those eyes 1 ’ ‘ Oh, ^ replied 
the artist, ‘IVe mixed my paints to catch the 
color of the eyes that were as blue as the ceylon 
sapphire. I have painted those that prisoned 
in their depths the purity of the saints ; for near- 
ly half a century I have made beautiful women 
my study; but when I came to paint Mademoi- 
selle Levering I was powerless. I cried out: 
“Mademoiselle, I can paint the sun, the stars, 
the moon, the whole universe; but your eyes. 
God alone knows the secret of their tinting. I 
painted her as you see. I have combined colors 
which I have never mixed before. See in them 
the soul of an angel with the flash of a demon ; 
passion and innocence, dew drops and tears, 
anathemas and kisses, all these I have com- 
bined,’ said he, ‘yet I failed to put on canvas the 
mysteries of those eyes.’ 

“I repeat as well as I can recall the old ar- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


95 


list’s poetical effusion about my child, so you see 
how she must have bewitched him. ’ ’ 

‘‘But excuse me, Madam Angier is going to 
sing, ’ ’ Mrs. Levering said as she passed into the 
adjoining room, well pleased with her little 
speech. 

The women looked at one another significant- 
ly. Several raised their eyebrows and gave a 
derisive snarl. 

“ Yes, ” resumed Mrs. Kempton, ‘ ‘ I remember 
first seeing the girl. It was all a mystery for a 
while, how the Leverings should gain possession 
of such a high-born child, particularly when bit- 
ter hatred existed between the North and South. 
It was early after the close of the war, but later 
the matter was clearly explained. You see Gyp- 
ta’s mother was a schoolmate of Mrs. Levering ’s 
and died when Mrs. Levering was South, and on 
her death-bed gave the child to her. Her father, 
as I understand, was a distinguished blue-blood- 
ed colonel in the Confederate Army, who was 
killed in one of the last battles of the war. ’ ’ 

Here Mrs. Kempton made a pause as a hush 
of silence fell over the room. Madame Angier 
had ceased singing, and Gypta had taken her 
place at the piano, and Captain Darcy was lean- 
ing over her unnecessarily near, as a viridian 
tinge, deep as Jean Saka’s marine views, shone 
in Hamlin’s eyes. 

“Now, Miss Levering, sing for me just one 
song — in comparison with the operatic selection 
you’ve just sung so magnificently, to many this 


06 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


quaint old ballad might seem rather common- 
place, but it is my favorite of all. Many attempt 
it, yet only one in ten thousand can sing it. I^m 
sure you can.^^ Here Hamlin wedged his head 
with firm politeness between that of Darcy and 
Gypta. ‘ ‘ I mean ’Way down upon the Suwanee 
Eiver.’ I’m sure you sing it.” 

^^Sing it?” and Gypta clapped her hands with 
childish delight as her face glowed with enthusi- 
asm. ^ ^ Oh ! yes, I love it, above all songs. How 
did you know that I could sing it? Now, tell me 
if I sing it as you thought I would. ’ ’ And in a 
moment the old song, like a refrain from the 
orange groves and the magnolias of the South, 
filled the room with its weird, sweet melody. 
Forgetful of the crowd which had gathered 
about her, Gypta sang on with a sobbing, tearful 
voice, while her eyes were raised as if to a vision 
seen only to herself. The tender voice soon si- 
lenced the laughter and voices of the throng, and 
intense stillness fell over the gay scene. 

In her own original, impetuous way she sud- 
denly ceased singing, and turning to Emon Ham- 
lin, said with pathos in her voice : ‘ ‘It is strange 
the etfect that song has had upon me. When I 
sing it such a longing comes to my heart to go 
South and just dream away my life on the banks 
of that dear old river. ’ ’ 

“No,” remarked Emon Hamlin, “it is not 
strange, as I understand you are from the 
South, and I have heard that Mrs. Levering used 
to call you her little ‘rebel girl.’ All Southern- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


97 


ers love that song. Even I^m a cold-blooded 
Yankee, and it seems to thaw me out, as it were.^’ 
^‘Yes, that’s very true,” said Oypta musingly, 
was such a little child when I was brought 
away from my home, the dear old South, I’ve 
only a vague memory of it ; but sometimes I have 
dreams of being there, and I see big plantations 
and hundreds of slaves, and I even inhale the 
fragrance from beautiful curling vines and 
clouds of blossoms that seem to grow every- 
where; but in reality I remember nothing; at 
least my mother tries to convince me that it’s an 
imaginary picture, and not a real memory. Often 
I’ve told her that I distinctly recall certain 
scenes and incidents, but she always says, ‘ You 
are an imaginative, silly girl ; those dreams are 
clouds. You should banish them, and adhere 
strictly to the practical truths of life. ’ 

“So you see,” continued Gypta, as she ran 
her fingers carelessly over the keys of the piano, 
“that I’m not permitted to be at all poetical, or 
even to believe in memories, though, Mr. Ham- 
lin, they are really dear and sweet to me. ’ ’ 

Just then the guests began to disperse, for it 
was past the hour of midnight. 

The edict had gone forth. Gypta ’s position 
was assured, and at once she became the mode. 
She might be criticised — envy could do its worst, 
but from the night of her debut she became a 
power in the fashionable world, holding there 
undisputed supremacy. She simply bewildered 
society. Her inconsistencies were delightful. 


08 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


her vagaries alluring. The homage of men she 
received as her right, and the incense flattery 
was inhaled by her with no more seriousness 
than the perfume from her bouquet. Love for 
any man had never so much as grazed her heart. 
As a whole she enjoyed her world, but no indi- 
vidual had ever won from her a decided prefer- 
ence. It was for this reason Mrs. Levering 
watched with trepidation the persistent atten- 
tions of Emon Hamlin. 

From their first meeting Hamlin had im- 
pressed Gypta favorably. Always dignified and 
undemonstrative, calm and gentle, he won from 
Gypta feelings of respect and even admiration, 
and she was ever tolerant of him — more so than 
to any of the legion of men who loved her. She 
was less daring and frivolous to Hamlin. His 
smoothness in all he said and did inspired her 
with deep regard for his opinion. The manner 
in which he handled the reins and quieted his 
fretting blooded bays was in accordance with 
all else he did. In his lovemaking there was 
nothing suggestive of the drama — he experi- 
enced or gave vent to no gustos of passion, and 
when he asked Gypta to become his wife there 
was no digression from his usual calm delibera- 
tion of manner. 

^ ‘ Take your own time to answer me, ^ ’ he said, 
but there was no tremor of voice, no pressure of 
the hand. 

Humph! What would Captain Darcy and 
the rest of the men think of such love-making? 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


99 


If I didn’t know he really loved me for myself, 
I would believe he only wanted me as an addi- 
tion to his belongings, just as he takes pride in 
owning a handsome house and the finest stock, 
he desires a wife whom he knows others want 
and cannot get. Oh, but what an admirable 
friend he could make ! ’ ’ Gypta said with a yawn. 
‘ ‘ Why is it I cannot keep such men as loyal good 
friends. But when I refuse to marry him doubt- 
less he will act as others have acted, fret and 
fume, and there our association ends.” 


CHAPTEE IX 


Late one morning Mrs. Levering remarked on 
entering Gypta’s room, ‘‘My dear, you look like 
Madrazo^s ‘Queen of the Harem.’ ” 

Gypta did indeed resemble some queen of the 
rising sun as she lay on a low couch over which 
were piled pillows and soft cushions. Her round 
bare arms were clasped above her head, while 
her hair hung about her in dusky ripples, falling 
loosely over her shoulders ; through her fingers 
she held a cluster of crimson-hearted roses with 
very long stems that she swayed to and fro like 
waving incense, the bruised leaves exhaling a 
sensuous fragrance quite in harmony with the 
rich surroundings and languid figure of the girl. 

“You are a luxurious creature,” continued 
Mrs. Levering as she sat and watched Gypta. 
She assumed a tone of carelessness, but even the 
most obtuse could have detected in her voice 
deep earnestness of purpose. 

“Yes, surely I am,” and Gypta crossed her 
bare feet, upon which she gazed with extreme 
content. I love color, and perfume, and jewels, 
and — ” 

“In other words, you love wealth,” interrupt- 
ed Mrs. Levering, completing the sentence. 

“Well,” said Gypta, “I have never associated 
beautiful things with money. It may be that 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


101 


they come to me so naturally. I no more reason 
regarding the matter than I argue the point 
why these roses are rich and red, and oh, so 
sweet,’’ and she held them close to her face and 
caught the perfume with parted lips and half- 
closed eyes. 

Those are Mr. Hamlin’s roses, are they 
not?” asked Mrs. Levering, by way of introduc- 
ing the subject nearest her heart. 

^ ‘ I believe they are. See the card at your feet ; 
I forgot to look at it. They came before I was 
awake, and Zeta placed them near me; but he 
always sends me long-stemmed roses — red ones, 
too. How queer for him to say that violets and 
lilies do not suit me! Captain Darcy’s flowers 
are invariably small and sweet. ’ ’ 

‘‘Let Darcy go for the present,” suggested 
Mrs. Levering impatiently. “It is of Emon 
Hamlin I wish to speak.” 

“Indeed!” exclaimed Gypta, opening wide 
her eyes and looking full at her mother. 

There was in her voice a mocking tone of 
amusement that irritated Mrs. Levering, who 
was fatally in earnest. 

“It is this I want to say, Gypta : You already 
know that Emon Hamlin is in love with you ; he 
has frankly asked your father the right to ad-* 
dress you. Few men of this day possess such a 
cavalier spirit. The old school Southern people 
do that, but it’s rare these days. Yes, he has 
had an interview with your father and declared 


102 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


that he wished to marry you. Now just think of 
it, my child ; it seems like a gift from the gods. ^ ’ 
Gypta sat upright and stared her mother full 
in the face, who vainly endeavored to repress 
her petulance beneath a calm demeanor. 

‘ ‘ W ell, ^ ^ asked Gypta, ‘ ^ what of it ? He ’s not 
the first. Other men have wished to marry me. 
That^s nothing new; only Ihn surprised at Mr. 
Hamlin ^s haste in the matter. How droll of him 
to go to papa. Quite proper in his love-making, 
I must confess. I should like to know how dear, 
modest papa managed the case. However, I’m 
glad he had an opportunity of warding off my 
unxfieasant duty of saying *No, sir,’ ” and she 
hummed the little ballad, ^‘No, sir ; not yet, sir,” 
as she touched the bell for her maid. 

‘^Gyijta, you have intelligence enough to know 
this is no trivial affair, for it concerns your posi- 
tion for life, under circumstances that may not 
occur again. You have a duty here, not only to 
yourself, but — ^but — to your father and me. Now 
tell me, dear,” was said beseechingly, ^‘you 
surely haven ’t refused Mr. Hamlin f ’ ’ 

‘H have given him no answer at all,” Gypta 
said emphatically. 

^‘He has addressed you then!” 

^‘Well, as far as I would let him; but how 
funny it seems, his going to poor papa, who I 
know was puzzled just what to say,” and she 
laughed a merry, ringing laugh. 

^‘For God’s sake, woman, be serious for once 
in your life ! ” and the hot color rose to Mrs. Lev- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 103 

ering’s face as she struck her thin hand heavily 
on the table. 

‘‘Why mother dear, you are actually angry. 
Forgive your little girV’ Gypta said, putting 
her arms around the .excited woman ’s neck and 
tenderly pressing her face against her cheek. 

‘ ‘ Why, what have I said to wound you 1 ^ ^ 

Mrs. Levering realized that she was now mis- 
tress of the situation. With her shrewd insight 
into the unselfish nature of Gypta she awakened 
a response, by an appeal, that harslmess or com- 
mand would never have compelled. 

“My beautiful, listen to me,^’ and Mrs. Lever- 
ing leaned toward Gypta. “It is for your wel- 
fare and happiness, as well as ours, that I ask — 
yes implore you to marry Emon Hamlin. You 
must marry Jihn. Gypta, for God’s sake, don’t 
refuse ! ’ ’ 

Gypta gave a sudden start, and the wavering 
glory of her eyes dulled, and her crimson lips 
whitened. 

“What do you ask — that I marry Emon Ham- 
lin? I’d hang myself on a rope’s end first! 
There’s my answer, so let the matter drop.” 
She sat erect, and with heaving breast faced her 
mother, who quailed beneath her gaze. 

‘ ‘ My child, you don ’t know what you are say- 
ing. Suppose I tell you that your father is a 
ruined man unless you rescue him. Suppose I 
tell you that his failure means that you and I 
must renounce comfort and luxury and go out of 
this house, maybe into a garlic-fumed boarding- 


104 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


house, or a tenement to scrimp and work, and 
get fagged out and old. Oh, you can’t be so stu- 
pid and cruel. No! no! you ivill marry Emon 
Hamlin and save us, and save yourself and avert 
our downfall. Gypta, we are already under 
binding obligations to him, and — and there are 
other reasons which I cannot and will not ex- 
plain, why it is absolutely necessary for your fu- 
ture success in life that you accept this magnifi- 
cent opportunity to marry. ’ ’ 

This was said in an undertone of mysterious 
suggestion which caused Gypta ’s heart to beat 
quick and loud. 

Mrs. Levering marked the sudden change that 
passed over her face. 

^ ^ As I was saying, dear, ’ ’ she went on, ‘ ‘ Emon 
Hamlin is by far the best matrimonial prize of 
all the men whom you have ever met. There’s 
not a young woman among all your friends who 
would not consider herself blessed by the Fates 
were she given the opportunity to become his 
wife and the mistress of his kingly mansion. In 
fact, no woman of well-regulated mind would re- 
fuse such an offer. 

‘ ^ Gypta, why do you not wish to marry Emon 
Hamlin!” Mrs. Levering asked in a gentler 
voice. 

‘H’ve no love for the man,” Gypta answered 
promptly. 

‘H-jove, love !” Mrs. Levering cried mockingly., 
^^But seriously, my dear, you are absolutely 
primitive in your idea of love. I thought you 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


105 


were too much a woman of the world to speak 
of heart impulses, and too sensible to believe 
that the dictates of the heart should dominate 
the worldly and temporal affairs in a woman’s 
life. Love belongs to the milkmaids and the rus- 
tics. In good society it is obsolete and bad form, 
my child. ’ ’ 

The face of Gypta became severe and hard and 
the velvet softness of her eyes blazed anew. 

‘‘Then you wish to teach me that love is a 
mockery and a cheat, and our hearts are but 
empty gourds to be tilled with dross ; yes, tilled 
with the dust from gold heaps under which all 
else must perish. It is a sad revelation, I as- 
sure you, and one that I’m unwilling to believe, 
and I will not believe it. I’ll be like the rustics 
and milkmaids.” 

Mrs. Levering continued, unmoved by Gypta ’s 
words. 

‘ ‘ That is mere rubbish and childish nonsense ; 
we must come to facts, stern, real facts. Remem- 
ber, child, what you owe us for what we have 
done for you. You little dream of your changed 
life. Do you know that I took you from a hovel, 
and all these years have nestled you in luxury, 
educated you, and introduced you into the 
world as if you were the daughter of a queen? 
We, Mr. Levering and I, have made you what 
you are, and now you have an opportunity of re- 
paying us, in part at least.” 

Before Mrs. Levering could say more, Gyp- 
ta ’s face was aflame with indignant rage. 


lOG 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘ ‘ Do you mean it lias come to this, ’ ^ she cried 
vehemently, ‘Hhat you would barter me, like so 
much wood or stone, to satisfy your ambition 
and my father’s debt? Am I no more to you 
than the slaves down South who used to be put 
on the block and sold to the highest bidder ? Oh, 
the very thought turns my love for you into 
hate. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Gypta, you ’re growing hysterical. I forgive 
your words because you’re scarcely responsible 
when under such undue excitement. Come, my 
child, let’s talk the matter over quietly,” and she 
leaned forward and put her arms out toward 
Gypta, who pushed her away furiously. 

^ ‘ Don ’t, don ’t, ’ ’ the girl cried, shrinking away, 
her eyes darkening with wrath, her body quiv- 
ering. ‘^You make me despise you. It is so 
cruel — they would sell me, to wipe out their 
debt. It proves they have no love, no sympathy 
for me. Oh, God ! it is so cruel ! ’ ’ and tears be- 
gan to soften the wild fury that had burned in 
her eyes, as her voice became a sob. 

Gypta, there is but one true, honest course 
for you to pursue. The matter does not even 
bear discussion. To refuse would brand you an 
ingrate, and unworthy of the name of your 
adoption. ’ ’ 

‘‘Why shouldn’t I have kept my own name, 
even though by adoption I became your child?” 
Gypta asked, the dark look again gathering omi- 
nously about her eyes. “You have never l3efore 
told me that you picked me up as you would a 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


107 


mere charity foundling. How strange you have 
never before told me I was a pauper! How 
strange ! and after all these years, instead of an 
increasing tenderness and love that a daughter 
should expect from a mother, I have been well 
groomed and decked out as a mere chattel — a 
piece of merchandise. You have a bid for me, an 
adequate price is offered. Mother,’^ Gypta 
cried almost fiercely, believe there is in me 
the noble blood of the South. Though you tell 
me I was poor, you Ve told me I was the child of 
a gallant Confederate officer ; that is why honor, 
integrity and chivalry are in my veins. I feel 
it tingling there now. I could not be capable 
of meanness or ingratitude — I am passionate, 
wilful, and impulsive, but dishonest I cannot be. 
DonT, please don’t argue, but let me think.” 
And Gypta buried her face between two big 
silken pillows, and remained silent and motion- 
less for several minutes. 

Without speaking, Mrs. Levering sat down a 
little distance from her, with an eager, fright- 
ened look in her eyes, that glittered under the 
exciting suspense. She realized the most im- 
portant crisis of her life was suspending in Gyp- 
ta ’s mind, and an adverse decision would mean 
inevitable and sudden poverty. She saw it all, 
ghastly, and squalid, and debasing. Each sec- 
ond that the little clock ticked away was a ham- 
mer sounding her doom. It seemed Gypta would 
never speak, yet she dared not disturb her, 
though the suspense was maddening. Should 


108 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


she refuse, great God ! Suppose she decides she 
will not marry him. The thought caused her 
thin jeweled fingers to clutch convulsively. Ten 
minutes at least had passed and Gypta still lay 
wfith her face buried in the pillows, and her 
splendid figure, with its voluptuous and exquis- 
ite grace, immovable as a fallen statue, except 
above the full wave of her bosom that rose and 
fell visibly beneath the transparent gather of 
her gauzy draperies. 

Ten minutes more of silence, and Gypta, as 
one who is aroused from deep sleep, passed her 
hands over her eyes, which had lost their lustre 
and were heavy and mournful. She turned to- 
ward her mother, who eagerly sprang forward 
to learn her decision. 

‘‘Mother, you have told me that I was a pau- 
per and you picked me up, and now you demand 
my soul and body as a ransom. I will pay my 
debt. I was a child of charity, you say. How 
strange youVe not told me that before. And 
now I’m a thing to be sold to avert impending 
poverty. Yes, I will marry Emon Hamlin. But 
listen first to what I say. In thus becoming a 
ransom I take on the burden with an untouched 
heart. I have never loved. Did I now love an- 
other, you would not dare make this proposition. 
No, I am sure you would not. It would be vile, 
yes, wicked, and before I would crush down love, 
if it had entered into my life, and consent to this 
loveless marriage, wdiy, even though the entire 
world perished for bread, I swear I would not 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


109 


make the sacrifice. And you found me on a bed 
of straw, you say,’^ she continued, as if talking 
in her sleep, ‘‘and I must pay the penalty. Yes, 
I’m sold! sold! sold!” she murmured, as there 
came into her face a strange fixed look, which 
Mrs. Levering failed to see, so great was her joy 
and triumph. 

‘ ‘ My love ! my beautiful ! ’ ’ she murmured, tak- 
ing Gypta in her arms, “you’ve given me the 
only peace I’ve had in long, long months. You’re 
an angel. You come to save us from a doom 
which is worse than death, — ten thousand 
times worse, — that of poverty and social ostra- 
cism. ’ ’ 

Gypta was motionless and seemingly uncon- 
scious of the caresses of Mrs. Levering until a 
great pity and love moved her heart for the 
woman who had in the past ever been so kind 
and indulgent to her, and a generous resolve of 
self-abnegation controlled her. 

“Then I will try to keep you happy, mother 
dear,” and she put out her arms and dropped 
her head upon Mrs. Levering ’s bosom. “I will 
be happy in bringing relief and peace to those 
who have always been kind, loving, and patient 
to the poor little orphan who was once desolate 
and alone. Yes, mother. I’ll do as you desire; 
I’ll marry Mr. Hamlin if it will save you and 
papa from future anxiety and care,” and she 
smiled through tears that bubbled from her 
heart into her eyes. Dashing them quickly away 
with an etfort to seem joyous, she cried, “Go tell 


110 


SON OF CAROLINA 


papa, and we will all be liappy together,’^ and 
she arose and clapped her hands with childish 
delight. 

The effort was too great for Gypta ; she could 
bear the strain no longer. 

^ ‘ Oh, go and leave me to myself. Go and re- 
lieve his mind. Go now 

With a feverish expression, as one who wakes 
from a dreadful dream, Gypta sat up and stared 
around the room, then at the door through which 
her mother had passed out. 

‘ ‘ Great God ! what have I done f Promised to 
marry Emon Hamlin — I, Gypta, to marry Emon 
PlamlinI I, who only a few hours ago was so 
free and unfettered, just a happy girl, with all 
my future a sweet mystery — now to be en- 
trapped into a hateful bondage, worse than 
death. Already I feel that manacles are galling 
my wrists, and a leaden weight is on my heart, 
suffocating and choking down every natural 
emotion. But what does it matter if 1 do suffer 
or strangle! The man I’m to marry is a Wall 
Street king with a great stone mansion in which 
I can pose as a lay figure, and on which he can 
display his wealth of costly jewels, and trap- 
pings, and things that people prefer to their 
eternal souls. Oh! it doesn’t matter ! What if 
my heart hungers and aches, and is cold, and 
my soul craves, and calls, and yearns for some- 
thing that can never answer my call! What 
does it matter if I die, unsatisfied ! What is all 
this in comparison to gold ! Oh ! but I must re- 
member I ’m of the world that scorns to look be- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


111 


yond the golden bars beyond into the green, cool 
pastures where vulgar rustics and plebeians love 
and become emotional. Ha, ba! I was a pauper 
once. Maybe that is why I believe there is some- 
thing purer and better than money — money! 
and in my pauper blood honor tingles and 
burns — that is why I will pay the debt I owe — 
and Idl do it , as I should — V\\ act my part, 
bravely, cheerfully and unselfishly. Though I 
feel the gnawing away of my heart, and hope 
dies. I’ll be the sufferer, yes, I must marry Emon 
Hamlin. Oh, my God!” Unconsciously Gypta 
had uttered her thoughts aloud, and as she 
looked up her maid was beside her. 

^ ‘ Zeta, how dare you come upon me, and with 
your heady black eyes stare impertinently at 
me ? How dare you I ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Forgive me, ma ’am, ’ ’ cried the maid, startled 
and trembling, ‘‘but you seem so strange I called 
you. You looked sort of wild, an’ talked as if 
to the air. ’ ’ 

“Silence, Zeta. Dress me. Be quick.” 

A moment more and Gypta was calm. She 
was on the stage and must act her part even to 
her maid. 

‘ ‘ I am sold, ’ ’ she repeated to herself, over and 
over again, ‘ ‘ and must act my part. A slave has 
no fredom of word or action. I’m knocked down 
to the highest bidder ! Gone ! ’ ’ 

Was it the irony of fate that suggested this 
thought? Or was it the voice from the spirit- 
land — the voice of the slave-mother keeping the 
weight of bondage on her child ? 


CHAPTER X 


^ ‘ Say I will be with him in a few moments, ’ ’ 
Gypta commanded on receiving a card bearing 
the name of Emon Handel Hamlin. Her face 
wore a determined expression. Groping and be- 
v/ildered in mind, she had for a while felt the 
most poignant anguish; now a lack of sensation 
followed that first agony. 

goes the curtain, I’m on the stage, my 
role begins. I shall act it out to the end. This 
want of feeling means that emotion is dumb or 
dead. IVe heard that one is never so afflicted 
as when he does not feel his sorrow; want of 
feeling is want of life — when pain ceases, death 
sets in. Ah ! well, I must pay my price, ’ ’ and she 
pushed back her dusky hair, through which her 
eyes glowed like swamp fires. Stern justice had 
slipped like a rod of iron into her nature. She 
determined to do her part to the end. 

‘‘Up goes the curtain,” she repeated as Ham- 
lin’s card whizzed from between her cold white 
fingers and settled in the hollow of a begonia 
that widened its velvety leaves from a bronze 
urn in the hall as she passed to her private salon. 

‘ ‘ On time to the moment, you see, ’ ’ and Ham- 
lin glanced at the jeweled clock on the mantle as 
he took Gypta ’s hand and drew her to a seat. 

“Yes, I’ve noticed that you are always very 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


113 


prompt,’’ and slie turned her eyes toward him 
with that appealing earnestness which gave them 
so strange a sadness and such touching beauty. 

‘‘Punctuality to the moment has always been 
my motto, but hope and impatience and — love, ’ ’ 
here his voice lowered, ‘ ‘ caused the hours of the 
day to drag. I’ve looked at my watch at least 
fifty times this morning, and for once I would 
have pushed time forward ; can you guess why, 
my Beautiful f ’ ’ and he neared his chair toward 
Gypta, who visibly shivered and started, but in 
a moment her face flooded with such a smile that 
Hamlin knew his answer before a word had been 
uttered. 

‘ ‘ That smile is my answer, ’ ’ he said in a tone 
of eager interrogation. 

“It means,” his voice trembled, “it means 
that you are to be my wife — am I not right, my 
Love 1 ’ ’ 

Gypta could not speak — she was under a spell 
for the moment, which she knew led to a foreor- 
dained end. 

“You will be my wdfe, Gypta I ” he repeated. 

The words came at last. 

“Mr. Hamlin, I’m fully aware of the high 
honor you’ve paid me. There could be no higher 
compliment, no sweeter homage from man to 
woman — and — and I accept the honor. Yes, Mr. 
Hamlin, I will marry you. ’ ’ 

Gypta repeated the words as a child might a 
speech that had been so often rehearsed as to 
become automatic. 


114 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘‘Thank God! Oh! thank God — my beautiful 
wife. My own wife ! ^ ’ Hamlin murmured, as he 
drew her hands to his lips where he held them 
close, and upon which he pressed gentle, unim- 
passioned kisses. 

“My own little hands, all my own, sweet wife 
soon to be, ’ ’ he murmured. 

Gypta started, and her face became tense and 
drawn. The proprietary caress and words 
seemed more than she could endure. 

“This is a sample of the role I must play,^’ 
she thought, a shivering sensation passing over 
her as though the clammy wings of a dew- 
drenched bat were being drawn over her naked 
flesh. She was tempted to cry out in rebellion 
against the mockery of it all, but was recalled to 
her reason by Hamlin’s words. 

“You love me, Gypta, do you not?” and Ham- 
lin looked at her gravely. He must have seen the 
gray weariness that passed over her face. 

‘What did you say I ’ ’ she asked vaguely. 

“I asked you if you love me.” There was a 
certain business-like accent in his voice. 

“Mr. Hamlin, I honor and respect you,” she 
said, withdrawing her hands. 

“Is that all?” Hamlin seemed to read some- 
thing in Gypta ’s face that he could not fully 
understand. 

“No, that’s not all; I assure you I like you 
very much. ’ ’ Each word was uttered with em- 
phasis. “Someway you stimulate in me an am- 
bition to do things well — you make me amhi- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


115 


tious, and you are so cool and polished, so kind 
and considerate toward me always. ’ ^ 

^ ^ Thank you, ’ ^ Hamlin said with a ring of pain 
in his voice; ‘‘but is that allf and he took her 
hands, and held her at arms’ length, his eyes in 
hers. 

“No, no! that is not all. I think more of 
you than I do of any one else ; now, is not that 
enough? You’re the first man I’ve promised 
to marry, what more could I say?” 

“I am satisfied, my Beautiful,” and Hamlin 
calmly bent forward and kissed her on the brow 
just as a father might kiss his child. “You have 
made me very happy, yes, absolutely so,” he 
said in answer to Gypta’s questioning expres- 
sion. “And you shall be queen among women: 
to raise that little hand will cause all things 
to move in obeisance at your command. Yes, 
you shall be my queen, loveliest and purest above 
all women,” and he passed his hand softly over 
her hair as his eyes dwelt on her long and wist- 
fully. 

Gypta did not speak ; she knew what was com- 
ing next, and she met his look with a smile of 
the actress adjusting herself to her role. 

“And now, my Beautiful, may I ask you one 
very important question?” He folded his hand 
over hers, and gave a look of passionate entrea- 
ty. ‘ ‘ Can ’t you guess what it is ? ” 

Gypta drew a quick breath, and shook her 
head. 


116 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘‘Now, guess; you surely know what’s upper- 
most in my mind.” 

‘ ‘ Let ’s see — oh ! I ’m afraid I can ’t guess — I ’m 
dull,” Gypta faltered. 

“Then I’ll soon enlighten you, my Love.” 

“Oh! you need not — if — oh! — I mean — 
mean — ” 

Hamlin regarded her steadily and gravely; 
the wounded look in his eyes made her turn 
away. 

‘ ‘ Gypta, are you so unwilling to hear me I ’ ’ 

' ‘ Gypta laughed nervously. ‘ ‘ Why, I w ant to 
hear you, Mr. Hamlin — ^yes — tell me what it is, ’ ’ 
and she faced him, yet she moved uneasily, she 
dreaded what she knew was the inevitable. 

Hamlin leaned toward her in an urgent way 
and patted her cheek caressingly. 

“You’re sure you want to hear, little girl?” 

“Yes, I’m sure,” she said stoically. 

‘ ‘ Then, Gypta, tell me when shall i claim you 
and take you to my heart and home, as my wife. 
Let us appoint the day right now — there’s no 
use of delay.” 

Gypta drew back ; the words set her heart to 
beating violently, and feelings of sutfocation al- 
most stupefied her senses, but in a moment she 
recovered herself. 

“Let’s name the earliest day possible. Will 
you not, Gypta ? ’ ’ 

“Why, yes, Mr. Hamlin, the earliest day pos- 
sible if you wish it so. It shall be as you say. 
Haven’t I promised?” her voice seemed listless 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


117 


and as if it came from a great distance ; passing 
her hands over her face, she swayed a little, but 
Hamlin ^s triumph and happiness caused him to 
see only through the eyes of his own heart as 
he drew her to him tenderly. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! I ^m so tired — you see, it ’s all so new and 
strange. All shall be as you say, only please ex- 
cuse me now, Mr. Hamlin, for I’m so tired — 
Good night, Mr. Hamlin. You are happy and 
satisfied, you don’t doubt me now, do you?” 
This was said with the air of a bored goddess 
as she turned to Hamlin with tired eyes and a 
pallid face. 

Hamlin bent and kissed her hands, one and 
then the other. 

‘H’m more than satisfied, my Beautiful, and 
happy as a king. Good night. Good night, and 
God bless you.” 


CHAPTEE XI 


The transition in the Levering home was noth- 
ing less than magical when Gypta announced her 
engagement to Emon Hamlin. It was as though 
a sunburst of domestic felicity put to retreat the 
gloom and spirit of irritability that had for a 
month or more pervaded it like a depressing mil- 
dew. The unstrung nerves of the head of the 
house swung into tranquil equilibrium. The 
parrots and canaries, that had been relegated to 
the kitchen, were restored to their former promi- 
nence and favor. The clattering volubility and 
shrill shrieks of the birds under the magic of this 
new spell became mellow and harmonious as of 
yore. Even the austere, worry-knitted visage 
of Mrs. Koy Levering relaxed into smiles and 
dimples as she continually reminded Gypta how 
fortunate she was to have captured the most de- 
sirable catch in New York^s exclusive Smart Set, 
effusively setting forth the advantage of such an 
alliance and fretting her with the suggestion of 
an obligation she determined Gypta should fully 
recognize. 

Gypta tried to look at the situation squarely, 
and to feel that she would meet with fortitude 
what she recognized as her unalterable doom. 
Since she must immolate self and become a hu- 
man ransom, she would rise above it with cool 
philosophy. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


119 


^ Already slie was aware of the miracle her sac- 
rifice had worked in the lives of those two to 
whom she owed so much, and who now turned to 
her with abject and pitiable dependence. To 
this her generous, impulsive nature responded. 
But the fact that what meant their worldly sal- 
vation shattered every dream and sweet illu- 
sion of her life was of no importance to them; 
this smote Gypta to the quick. 

The idea that every emotion of the soul, heart, 
and mind should be reduced to a fieshly, worldly 
view seemed to her a contortion of one^s higher 
nature and stunned her by the selfishness of it 
all. 

Selfishness ! 

Yes, that word summed up the whole matter, 
and yet she must endure it in silence. She could 
neither seek solace nor resign herself openly to 
grief. Self-pride and consideration for the feel- 
ings of others forbade this. She felt as if she 
must forever shield an asp at her breast and 
caress and fondle it, though its fangs were fas- 
tened in her heart-strings, absorbing her life 
blood. She must suffer and smile. This was to 
be her role in all the coming years. She de- 
spised the hypocrisy that would force her to 
meet the world with false, reckless gaiety and 
smirking satisfaction. 

It was with pleasurable surprise and a cer- 
tain degree of gratification that Gypta found 
after constant association that Emon Hamlin 


120 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


was a man not to be regarded lightly by any 
woman. Thus the thought of her approaching 
marriage became less repugnant. While there 
was no increasing sentiment or tenderer emo- 
tion than friendship, yet as a purely rational 
being with a normal development of ambition 
and pride, Gypta could not fail to appreciate 
the worshipful devotion of one who had with his 
masterful achievements not only amassed a 
princely fortune, but won a conspicuous leader- 
ship in the social and financial world. His phe- 
nomenal success in the management of impor- 
tant corporations and his judgment in all mat- 
ters of commerce marked him as one of the 
prominent figures in the great metropolis; yet 
he was the rawest tyro in matters of the heart 
where women figured. 

Hamlin was no longer young, having by a year 
or more passed the zenith of life ; yet even in his 
impetuous youth he had never given himself up 
to any pursuit which ran counter to his views 
of what was reasonable or right for any one pos- 
sessed of intellect and will. He believed that a 
man with an object in view should put forth all 
his powers for hard and remorseless study to 
achieve that end and should not assume respon- 
sibilities that would hamper his efforts ; that he 
should not think of marriage until his intellect 
was matured, and something of value accom- 
plished in life. Hence it was but strictly logical 
that Hamlin should now decide to marry. So 
far as his imagination had lent itself to create 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


121 


his ideal of a woman, invariably a gentle, sub- 
missive, pensive-faced creature, with dewy blue 
eyes would appear before him — just the antithe- 
sis of Gypta. He admired women and conceded 
them the highest place in the world, yet he had 
cared or thought nothing about any one of them 
in particular, until Gypta suddenly came into his 
life with her magnificent personality, her elusive 
charm and vitalizing infiuence. To him she was 
a fascinating puzzle. He did not reason why 
he loved her, nor did he once bring her beneath 
the focus of his analysis. He was satisfied that 
she was the one woman in all the world upon 
whom he could lavish his wealth and crown mis- 
tress and queen of his home. He was now no 
longer merged wholly in his work, having retired 
from business. 

‘‘Now,’’ said he complacently, “I can afford 
to enjoy the fruits of my struggle and toil. I can 
be a gentleman, and am thankful that I retain 
the capacity to enjoy what I have earned. I’m 
willing to take my hand from the wheel and rest. 
I can number a dozen or more of my associates 
and friends who have lost all desire for repose 
and the elegances of life. Their hands will be 
on the throttle and millstone of toil until they 
drop off by death; toiling on! toiling on until 
then.” So he mused, while Gypta decided that 
she could love him well enough with the enchant- 
ing environments he assured her would be hers, 
and her heart throbbed with momentary happi- 
ness. 


122 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^^Yes, I will become worldly/’ she meditated. 
‘‘That may possibly quench emotion, and should 
the little child-god shake his quiver of arrows 
reproachfully, and tauntingly remind me that I 
have missed the purest, sweetest thing in life, 
why. I’ll just throw clouds of gold dust in his 
eyes so that he will quickly fly away and not 
arouse regret or remorse in my heart. Should 
he never come I may be content. It is only his 
coming that I dread. Oh! God, do not let him 
ever come. There is no infidelity now; I have 
no dead ashes or buried affections ; my heart is 
clean and untouched; otherwise this marriage 
would be worse than perjury.” 

A few days later Gypta stood by Hamlin and 
with steady fingers marked on the calendar the 
day on which they would marry. 


CHAPTER XII 


Gypta was in her room nestled deep in the cor- 
ner of a huge chair. The morning ^s mail had 
piled on her desk heaps of letters, papers and 
magazines, which, after idly glancing over, she 
pushed from her with a shrug of impatience. 
The fact was nothing could hold her mind with 
interst. She was restless. In a material sense 
all was going well with her, yet an irritating 
contradictory imp had taken possession of her 
these last few days. 

‘‘Genieo’s A^alley of the Passions,’ ” she 
read aloud, reaching to the far end of the table 
and taking up a small volume, which she opened 
and began to scan with increasing interest. 
wonder who sent me this? An allegory of the 
passions. Allegories seem to me hut fairy- 
stories for grown-up folks. However, I rather 
like the way this starts, ’ ’ she said as she read the 
first paragraph, which ran thus: ‘H heard a 
voice say, ^ Arise and follow me and unto you 
I will reveal the mysteries of the valley wherein 
dwell the virtues and vices of mankind — the pas- 
sions that allure souls to perdition, and the vir- 
tues which lift them to paradise. There the 
forces for good or evil are seen in their original 
state.’ ” 

‘‘Indeed, I do like it,” she thought, “I’m sure 


124 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


it’s something unusual. I’ll just follow Genieo 
into that valley. ’ ’ 

She continued to read : ‘ ‘ ^ Daughter of earth, ’ 
a loud voice called, ‘look first unto me, for I am 
Pride. I am greatest of all, for it was I who 
cast an archangel from heaven and made of him 
a devil. Souls 1 crumble beneath my power, and 
my influence reaches to all spheres. I creep into 
the heart of the priest at his orisons, and his sup- 
plications become a mockery. I with my ally 
Ambition rock the pulpit and the throne until 
they totter and fall beneath a curse. At our 
command great men are converted into toys and 
pupjjets, and lofty principles and untarnished 
honor perish before us. My throne is of onyx 
and jet, made so by the reflex action of lost souls 
that will wail in the Plutonian shadows of their 
eternal doom. ’ ’ It continued — 

“ ‘Child of Mortality,’ a sweet voice cried, 
‘come and learn of me, for I am Charity. My 
mantle is white as snow, and covers the scarlet 
of sin. Charity is kind and thinketh no evil. 
I heed the voice of the poor, and nestle the widow 
and orphan to my bosom. I silence the whisper 
of evil and giveth not heed to the voice that 
would defame honor or virtue. Faith and Hope 
are my hand-maidens ; but I, Charity, lead them. 

“I was then brought before the power that 
justly hath been called the ‘ Green-eyed Monster.’ 
On a throne of serpents she reigned, coiling and 
writhing on her heaving reptile capitol. Her 
robes were wound around her undulating form 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


125 


in filmy folds, dripping with the miasmic venom 
that enveloped her. At her right hand was 
Envy and hydra-headed Flattery at her feet. 
The viridian pool that sluggishly wound about 
the throne was fringed with nettles and aloes 
in whose shadows slimy-winged bats and owls 
nestled. 

‘‘ ‘I am the Queen of Satan,’ cried Jealousy; 
‘for he hath espoused me. Envy goeth hand in 
hand with me, and great is our power. We 
breathe upon a heart once pure, and it withers 
at our touch. We crouch around the home circle 
until it is broken and scattered. We blight fair 
names and blast fond hopes. We pour fire into 
the veins of men — the fire that consumes the 
nerves, the brain, and at last the soul. W"e enter 
the humble hut, but are oftener found in halls 
and palaces. At Beauty and Genius we aim our 
deadliest shaft. Even the Almighty saith, ‘ ‘ Who 
can stand before Envy?” ’ ” 

Gypta paused a moment, her fingers resting 
on the page. “Well, that can’t apply to me,” 
she said ; “ I envy no one, and do not remember 
being jealous in all my life. She continued to 
read: “Beneath a veil as vaporous as dawn’s 
first flush stood Beauty. Liquid as a dew-laden 
flower she stood with all the warmth of sum- 
mer prisoned in her bosom and the joy of Para- 
dise within the limpid light of her eyes. Her 
throne was of roses amid which were woven 
thorns and briars. ‘Tell me, thou Queen of 
Beauty,’ she asked, ‘why are thorns woven amid 


126 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


your rose garlands'? Canst one so lovely as thou 
cause a pain or shadow? Art thou a dual na- 
ture?^ ‘Alas, I am,’ Beauty replied, ‘I am an 
ally of Satan. I either allure the souls of men to 
despair and caues them to feed on the dead ashes 
of their own hearts, or I point them to heaven. 
I am either a vulture to destroy courage, man- 
hood and honor, or, like the dove, I nestle in their 
lives, bringing peace and joy. I can either prove 
a beacon of light that quivers in the. path of the 
weary traveler or I become as the jewel in the 
head of the toad, ugly and venomous, whose 
abode is in the shallows or mires of sin. Beauty, 
when unscathed by evil, is God’s own hand- 
maiden.’ ” 

“I am beautiful,” soliloquized Gypta, “that 
is what I’m supposed to believe. Now I wonder 
if I am the ally of good or evil — the light or the 
jewel in the head of the toad? I wonder which,” 
she said musingly as she placed the book down- 
ward on her knee and lifted her eyes. “Well, 
every word of this weird picture appeals to me. 
It seems as if I myself had written it. Ah ! but 
here is Love, I wonder what Love is going to 
say, ’ ’ and she read with absorbing interest this 
closing paragraph : ‘ ‘ Then Love arose and spoke. 
Said she, ‘I have no dual nature. Ye worldlings 
often wrong my name. Love is pure as heaven. 
It is the cable that links earth with paradise. I 
am the mirror in which the children of earth 
catch the heavenly reflection. The humblest 
hovel brightens at my entrance with a radiance 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


127 


more glowing than that which pervades the love- 
less palace of princes. Homes where I abide 
not, though wrought of stone and marble, be- 
come whitened sepulchres. I am a watcher who 
never wearies. Duty sometimes sleeps, but I 
never, for Love is stronger than Duty. I for- 
give the xjrodigal, and my light is ever in the 
window should he return. When the world con- 
demns and strikes, then I am strong and prove a 
shield to the helpless. I am- the key that unlocks 
the gates of paradise, for Love is God and God 
is Love. ^ ^ ^ 

‘L^nd this I am to lose Gypta cried out bit- 
terly. ^ ‘ To lose forever ! They tell me that love 
is the plaything of fools — the dalliance of dul- 
lards, and that the heart is clay, and that men 
can mould and fashion it in whatever shape they 
desire. Oh ! they would cheat me and throttle 
that which is sweetest in life. These lines are 
mine, for they tell me what I have dreamed of 
and waited for, yet such love can never be mine. ^ ^ 
She marked the passage and closed the book on 
her lap. 

‘‘But suppose that it should come and knock 
at my heart, allegorically speaking, what should 
I do"? Must I slam my gilded door in his face 
and hug to my heart my big golden cross, and 
say, ‘Begone! there ^s not room for you here, go 
away! IVe no right to let you in, IVe made my 
choice, go away !^ Oh ! God, suppose such dear, 
sweet love as this tells of should come, will I 
know him ? And will I have the courage to close 


128 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


the door on him, and hug my cross, and yet be 
faithful to my master and his gold! Heroism 
and sacrifice, that’s my creed now, and I must 
also be mean and miserable and dishonest. Let’s 
see ! she said, walking across the room, and tak- 
ing up the little ivory calendar upon which a 
mark set the date of her marriage. 

^ ^ One month from to-day and I will be Mr s.Emon 
Handel Hamlin of Fifth Avenue. How enchant- 
ing ! ’ ’ and her thick lips curled in derision. ^ ‘ In 
thirty days I enter my bondage, but my chains 
will be ropes of pearls and jewels and my prison 
a great big stone mansion. Whew! just think 
of it ! and what a keeper I ’ll have ! He will dress 
me — not exactly in prison stripes, but in Paris 
gowns. Nobody will know I ’m a convict, because 
the bars will be on the inside, right over my 
heart, and not on the outside; no one will see 
them and nobody will care, in fact. It’s nobody’s 
business if I choose to wear the heavy bars 
across my breast and heart and be a social con- 
vict. Why! I’m becoming really interested in 
the whole affair — it’s growing less repugnant 
daily. Day after day and night after night I’ll 
keep going in the whirling and commingling of 
society, where my soul will be carried round and 
round unceasingly, until beneath the fingers of 
convention I ’ll become moulded into a big waxen 
figure that will stand and move and smile in the 
place of the real Gypta. Thirty days more,” 
she said, fixing her eye and finger on the fatal 
date, with its cross mark. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


129 


“ Oh ! God, dear God ! help me, ’ ’ she screamed, 
flinging the calendar across the room, breaking 
to atoms its fragile leaves. 

‘‘Mademoiselle is very funny; she play ball 
wid her pretty calendar and break it so. ’ ^ Zeta 
said this to herself as she gathered up the broken 
leaves. 

Just then there was a tap at the door and a lit- 
tle procession, headed by Mrs. Levering, slowly 
entered, as two women placed across the table a 
long box. 

‘ ‘ See, Gyp, what has come for you. Now wait, 
we must have the proper light before you look. 
It is a marvel of beauty,’^ Mrs. Levering was 
panting exultantly. 

Zeta lighted a silver candelabrum of waxen 
candles and placed it where the light fell across 
the box which contained Gypta’s bridal gown. 
It lay in folds of dead white softened by billows 
and clouds of rich lace. 

‘ ‘ Isn ’t it regal, my child ? Why don ^t you say 
something!*^ Mrs. Levering asked in an ag- 
grieved voice. 

Gypta rested her chin in her jeweled hand and 
fell to studying the pattern of the lace. 

“Eose point, isn^t itT^ she asked, arching her 
brows. 

“Yes, indeed, and the richest that money could 
buy,’’ Mrs. Levering explained decisively. 

“In papa’s present financial condition I don’t 
exactly understand why he should spend a small 


130 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


fortune on that/^ and Gypta^s shoulders 
shrugged in an irritated gesture. 

Her mother looked uncomfortable. 

‘‘Oh, doiCt be absurd; it^s once in a lifetime, 
and — and — 

“Please don’t explain, mamma dear, I fully 
understand. Why, yes; it’s a triumph, a ver- 
itable triumph, the gown and all. ’ ’ 

“It looks like an exquisite flower of some 
kind, doesn’t it, dear I” Mrs. Leveling asked, 
touching the lace daintily. 

“Yes, a flower, or like a — shroud,” Gypta said 
with a shudder. 

At this remark silence fell upon the little 
group and the maids looked at one another. Mrs. 
Levering turned pale. 

“You foolish, ungrateful girl !” she exclaimed, 
trying to throw otf the effect of Gypta ’s grue- 
some comparison as she raised the heavy satin 
fabric from the box and placed it upon the bed. 

“Oh!” ejaculated Gypta, turning her head 
and closing her eyes as if trying to shut out some 
vision worse still. “I’m foolish, I know, mamma 
dear, but it all looks so still and white, and the 
long box startled me,” and she laughed nerv- 
ously. “Yes, it does seem that I’m very ungrate- 
ful and silly too, mamma, but for a moment the 
beauty of this thing blinded me and I was dizzy. 
Yes, it is very beautiful,” and she touched the 
rich garment with the tips of her fingers, then 
the gossamer lace and sprays of orange blos- 
soms on the bosom of the gown; touched each 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


131 


with icy fingers just as she might have touched 
a shroud enveloping a corpse. With a nervous 
start she turned a white, tense face to her 
mother. ^ ‘ Yes, it is costly and very handsome, ^ ^ 
she said again and again. ^ ‘ Oh, how proud you 
will be, mamma, to see Mrs. Emon Handel Ham- 
lin, your daughter, arrayed in that queenly gown 
as she steps from her carriage into her own 
mansion. Hi, ho ! mamma, kiss me, and be hap- 
py. Let me see you smile before you go.” 

^‘You enchanting thing!” Mrs. Levering said 
as she parted the masses of jet-black hair about 
Gypta’s temple and pressed her lips caressingly 
among the billows of curls. 

‘H love to kiss you there — right there,” she 
said with a forced laugh. 

When she had left the room Gypta heaved a 
sigh of relief. 

Thank God, she’s gone!” she murmured, 
looking toward the door. ‘ ‘ Now dress me, Zeta, 
be quick. I must do something to get rid of all 
this. ’ ’ 

^^Zeta.” 

‘‘Yes, ma’am; I’m here.” 

“I say dress me. I’ll go mad to stay here an- 
other hour. I feel as if I’m stifling. Take — 
that — thing — out — of — my — sight,” and she 
pointed toward the box that remained uncov- 
ered, revealing the stiff bridal robe and lifeless 
blossoms. 

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll call Natine to help me.” 

“No, come back ; call no one. Cover it up until 


132 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


I’m gone, and then put it where I’ll not see it 
until — until — ” 

The sentence remained unfinished. Gypta 
pressed her hands across her brow and closed 
her eyes as the maid covered the box and threw 
over it a black satin robe. 

^^More like a coffin than ever,” Gypta cried 
as her eyes glanced for a moment toward the 
box. ‘‘Oh! I must get away; yes, I will go to 
the lake and skate away this dreadful, sickening, 
ghastly, foggy feeling that’s on my brain. The 
ice must be fine to-day. Order the sleigh, Zeta ; 
but first listen attentively to what I say. ’ ’ 

“Yes, ma’am, I do.” 

“Zeta, you’re but a poor, humble servant, 
but — but — Zeta, you’ve been with me so long, 
you know me well. You understand that I want 
to get away from all this, do you not ? ’ ’ 

“Oui, Mademoiselle, I see, est tres unhappy.” 

“Yes, yes, that’s why I want to put an end to 
all thoughts of everything, the future and all. I 
don’t wish Mr. Hamlin to come to the lake. Were 
he to do so, my skates would become clogs, ’ ’ she 
murmured to herself. ‘ ‘ I want to get out in the 
clean winter air, and skate away the awful 
weight on my brain. I want sunshine and free- 
dom. “Zeta,” she called suddenly, “send my 
skates to the sleigh. But wait, Zeta, do I look 
haggard?” and she glanced from the mirror to 
her maid. ‘ ‘ My eyes look like burnt-out moons, 
indeed they do; don’t they, Zeta, look like 
moons?” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


133 


The maid clasped her hands with an excla- 
mation of admiration. ‘‘Mademoiselle is like 
she always is — tres belle ! tres belle ! 

“Oh, Zeta, but Mademoiselle is tres triste, 
tres triste, ’ ’ Gypta said, nestling her chin in her 
furs. “But I’m going to be free this morning, 
absolutely free.” 

“Zeta!” 

‘ ‘ Oui, Mademoiselle. ’ ’ 

“Say to mamma I’m at the park; but to tell 
no one else I ’m there. You understand this I ’ ’ 

“Oh, oui. Mademoiselle, I understand perfect- 
ly, perfectly.” 


CHAPTEE XIII 


An hour later those who watched the dark- 
eyed girl glide over the lake saw a picture of 
perfect freedom and buoyant grace. Gypta 
skimmed the glistening ice like some rich-plu- 
maged bird that had wandered from her tropical 
home to the frozen north. Her desire was real- 
ized ; her flashing eyes and half -parted lips dis- 
closed her unrestrained joyousness as she 
darted about with Jier furs close around her. 

The day was bright and the lake filled with 
skaters. The ice was thick and safe except in a 
few places, w'here the danger signals were 
raised. On the shore throngs of spectators stood. 
The aged millionaire, with his coat drawn closely 
about his gray head, lingered to drink in the ex- 
hilaration of the picture that recalled his boy- 
hood days when, in his humble New England 
home, he stole away from school to enjoy a skate 
upon the pond nearby. ‘‘Ah,’^ thought he, ^‘I 
have become great and rich, but I would not ex- 
change the jingle of my skates and the stolen 
sweets of those childhood pleasures for the clink 
of all the gold in my counting-house, ’ ^ and, with 
his corroded heart a little softened, he put his 
miserly hand in his purse and gave heed to the 
plaintive voice of the beggar child who tugged 


A SON OP CAROLINA 135 

at his coat, and who at another time would have 
been harshly pushed aside. 

^ Nearby stood a vagabond shabby-genteel, with 
his thin, threadbare coat buttoned closely about 
him and his gloveless hands buried deep in emp- 
ty pockets. There he stood, oblivious of the cold 
winds that thrust icy needles through his frame ; 
and a smile illumined his face as some novice 
was brought to grief in the midst of his gyra- 
tions. 

Nurses with children, who looked like tiny 
esquimaux with their chubby rosy faces and 
snowy fur cloaks, toddled about the shore of the 
lake, all taking in the merry, glad scene and 
drinking in the sunbeams. 

Conspicuous in the throng was Gypta, who, 
with unconscious grace, threaded her way 
through mazes and windings amid the sinuous 
paths of the skaters. For a while she moved in 
long, waving curves, slow and swaying as a 
weary- winged storm-swallow; then with a sud- 
den bound she darted zigzag, here and there, 
circling in serpentine whirlings, like a mad- 
dened flower-bee in its buzzing greed to ravish 
the honeyed-heart of a blossom. The crowd 
stood aside and watched her and made way at 
her approach. There was something desperate 
and suggestive in her defiant look and impetu- 
ous grace. 

Among the spectators were two elegantly 
dressed men, who stood idly chatting and smok- 


136 A SON OF CAROLINA 

ing, and occasionally remarking on the skaters 
that passed. 

‘‘You cannot be much of a skater, Barron,’^ 
said Darcy, who was one of the party mentioned. 

“To skate well one must be horn in the region 
of ice and snow and begin when the legs are sup- 
ple as a boy ’s only can be. ’ ’ 

“By George, I used to love it ! You Southern- 
ers cannot skate, but you beat us dancing and 
riding. Your women dance like Spaniards and 
the men are graceful, but you cannot skate. ’ ’ 

“You are right, I confess,’’ assented the 
other, whiffing a curl of smoke in the cold air, and 
abstractedly watching it disajjpear. ‘ ‘ We have 
few opportunities to learn to skate in the South, 
for the ice is rarely thicker than a sheet of pa- 
per ; but I learned when I came here a few years 
ago I could skate as well as the average man on 
the lake. I’m not inclined, however, to prove 
the fact.” 

“Come, I am due at the bank in just thirty 
minutes,” said Darcy’s companion, looking at 
his watch. 

“Only slaves should regard time — ” 

“What is a man on a salary but a slave! We 
poor devils must keep turning the rich man’s 
golden wheel while he gathers the gold dust and 
we get only the chaff. I’m that slave, and for 
that very reason I must leave you.” Just as he 
was turning to go he suddenly paused. 

Fate turned her shuttle, and he was caught in 
the tangle of his destiny. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


137 


Like an arrow in its flight, Gypta passed near 
by with a gladder light in her starry dark eyes 
than ever shone on land or sea. She bowed to 
Darcy. 

‘‘Who is she!’^ exclaimed Barron Baxter. 
“The most magnificent creature I ever saw. 
Watch her ! Do you know her, Darcy! Tell me 
her name quick. Ye Gods! Such eyes! Such 
grace ! My heavens, man ! who is she ! ’ ’ And 
oblivious of* the bank and all the world at large, 
he sprang to the verge of the ice, and shading 
his eyes with his hand, watched her until she 
turned a curve and was out of sight. 

Captain Darcy gave a ringing laugh. ‘ ‘ That ’s 
what we call a sudden strike,’’ said he, “she is a 
beauty, isn’t she!” 

Baxter slowly regaining his breath, twisted 
his moustache fiercely, and looking Darcy in the 
face, said earnestly, “My friend, it is useless to 
talk of business or bank engagements so long as 
that girl is here. I swear I must see her again. 
Now tell me all about her.” 

“Well, old fellow,” exclaimed Captain Darcy, 
“just keep cool; catch your breath a little, give 
me time, and I will satisfy you on all points.” 

“Well, yes,” said he, “I, to my sorrow, know 
her, and love her, albeit she has twice rejected 
me. Secondly, she has played the devil with 
almost every man in her set. Thirdly, her name 
is Gypta, and she is the adopted daughter of Roy 
Levering, who was on the verge of failure not 
long ago. Fourthly, she is beautiful and danger- 


138 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


oils as a basilisk, and as poor as the traditional 
church mouse, so I ’m told. ’ ^ 

‘^Oh, pshaw! that doesn^t matter,’’ cried Bax- 
ter impatiently. ‘ ‘ Go on ! ” 

^^And now prepare for la grande finale/^ said 
Darcy, raising his eyebrows and puckering his 
lips — 

‘‘Great God! married?” ejaculated Baxter, 
catching the arm of his companion, and breath- 
ing hard. 

“There, off again,” rejoined Darcy with tan- 
talizing deliberation. “No, not quite so bad as 
that. But, really, Baxter, I never saw you agi- 
tated so in all my life. Man, you are serious, I 
do believe. It’s just as well to warn you in time. 
In about a month or six weeks she will be Mrs. 
Emon Hamlin. What have you to say about it ? ” 
and thrusting both hands in his pockets he 
leaned back and watched Baxter. 

“Nonsense! I don’t believe it. Why Hamlin, 
I judge, is twice her age. He is rich, it is true; 
but she is not the woman to sell herself. I saw 
her only one moment, but I can swear she has a 
heart. She doesn’t look like the stone-hearted 
woman of society, or the cold-natured woman of 
the North. Somehow she reminds me of our 
southern magnolia, full of warmth and perfume ; 
yes, that is what she looks like. But I say, Dar- 
cy,” Baxter continued after a moment’s pause, 
‘ ‘ suppose we put our skates on just for the sake 
of old times, and take a spin round the lake. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ But what about that important engagement 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


139 


at the bank!^’ asked Darcy, looking at his friend 
with good humor twinkling in his eyes. 

‘‘Oh,’’ said he, frowning a little, “the deuce 
take the engagement. A few minutes’ delay 
won’t matter.” 

“Here, boy,” he called to a lean-visaged ur- 
chin who, with a string of skates dangling from 
each arm, sang in a monotonous tone, ‘ ‘ Skates to 
hire ! Skates to hire ! ’ ’ 

“Here, fit us to a pair,” commanded Baxter. 

It was soon done, and after a few tentative 
slides near the hank of the lake, the two men 
went with a graceful slide among the skaters. 

Baxter had but one object and that was to see 
the girl who had thrown this witchery upon liim. 
He glided in and out among the skaters, but she 
was not to be seen. 

Suddenly Darcy cried out, “There she goes 
yonder in the distance! She’s alone too, come! 
We will follow her, and I’ll introduce you; but, 
my dear fellow, what’s the use? I tell you the 
engagement has been announced. I’ve done my 
part. Forewarned is forearmed, so here we go.” 

Just as they were nearing Gypta, who was 
moving in long curves in a distant and deserted 
part of the lake, a sweet, golden-haired girl cap- 
tured Captain Darcy. 

“I will follow you later, Baxter,” and away 
he went with the slim hand of the girl clasped 
closely in his own. 

“A nice way to treat a fellow, I swear,” mut- 
tered Baxter as he proceeded alone, following 


140 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


in the wake of Gypta. Scarcely had he time to 
give vent to his disappointment when an object 
appeared before him that caused his heart to 
leap with dread. 

Gypta had turned and was skating backward. 
Two wondrous eyes, were full upon him, and her 
soft cheek rested on her muff held close against 
her face. Rich masses of blue black hair clus- 
tered in glossy and rippling luxuriance about 
her cheeks and throat. 

The danger signal was behind her, and, all un- 
consciously, she was nearing it. 

The icy floor seemed to lower, and silver seams 
radiated beneath her feet. 

A second more and the great yawning fissure 
would have opened and swallowed her. 

At a glance Baxter saw that death was immi- 
nent. 

‘‘Stop! Stop! for God^s sake come to me!’’ 
he cried, opening wide his arms. 

With a quick, startled look, Gypta turned 
deadly white as with a long swinging slide and 
out-stretched arms she was caught in the em- 
brace of her rescuer. 

It was the act of a moment, but the girl’s life 
was saved. 

With one arm securely around her waist, Bax- 
ter made a backward movement, then there was 
a ringing sound, the ice cracked and parted in 
crystal splinters through which water oozed, 
leaving a dark deep gap like a black throat edged 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


141 


with dagger-like teeth ready to devour and swal- 
low their beautiful victim. 

As two children who had run from a ghost, 
these two stood clasping hands and silently 
watching the death-jaws opening and heaving 
before them. Unconsciously Gypta nestled close 
to Baxter with the sweet, innocent trust of a lit- 
tle child who in an hour of danger intuitively 
seeks protection. 

In a moment, with blushing consciousness, the 
novelty of her attitude aroused her. She with- 
drew her hands, and standing back a little, 
raised her face to Baxter with a soft, tremulous 
smile and eyes humid with gratitude. 

Holding out both hands again to him, she tried 
to speak, but her lips did not move. 

Baxter, pale but perfectly calm, looked upon 
the bowed head and felt through his fur-lined 
gloves the pressure of her hands. His whole be- 
ing was thrilled. For a moment neither spoke. 
In the distance the voice of the skaters could be 
heard, and the silverine sound of sleigh-bells 
came and went in undulating waves of sound. 
The great icy throat heaved and choked, then 
broke and melted away. 

Gypta suddenly tossed back her head. ^‘Oh, 
how childish I am ! ’ ’ and to hide the tears still 
hanging upon her lashes, she turned her head, 
w^hile a sweet shyness stole over her. Master- 
ing her emotion, she exclaimed with warmth and 
earnestness, You have saved my life. Oh, how 
good and brave you are ! You risked your life 


142 A SON OF CAROLINA 

to save me ; believe me, I am very, very grate- 
ful. ^ ^ 

Don’t mention it, please; I assure you, I’m 
your debtor. Destiny has been very kind in per- 
mitting me to render you this service,” and 
with frigid courtesy Baxter bowed very low. 

‘ ‘ The conditions under which we meet forbid 
formality,” Baxter said, leisurely taking from 
his pocket a card-case. ‘‘Allow me,” handing 
Gypta his card, upon which she read the name — 
‘ ‘ Barron Baxter. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Of Carolina I ’ ’ she asked with a swift glance 
of interrogation. 

“Yes, of South Carolina,” Baxter answered 
with a smile, conscious that to her he was not 
entirely a stranger. 

“And I am Miss Levering,” Gypta said, and 
Baxter bowed even lower than before. 

‘ ‘ Miss Levering, allow me the honor of escort- 
ing you to friends who may await you, ’ ’ he said, 
otfering his arm. 

‘ ‘ Thank you, but we must go very slowly. I 
think in the sudden slide my ankle was 
sprained,” and she leaned heavily on Baxter’s 
arm. 

“Tell me,” Baxter exclaimed with unfeigned 
anxiety, “do you sutler at all? Lean on me and 
accept my assistance as much as possible.” 

Barron’s haughty and unusually cold face 
softened into tender solicitude, and his voice be- 
trayed the most intense interest. 

“How can I relieve you?” He looked down 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


143 


just as lier face raised to his, brilliant, tender 
and beautiful ; a face such as is seen in a paint- 
ing which the centuries have mellowed, merging 
the richness of color into an intangible soul-like 
thing, with outline or pigment, lost in the spirit 
of genius. 

The cold, fathomless eyes of Baxter darkened 
with intensity of feeling, as they seemed to draw 
into their very orbits those of Gypta’s, that 
meltingly yielded up to him their prisoned se- 
cret. 

Both were silent. Upon each was a new power. 

The soul signal had passed, and between these 
two an eternal bond was sealed, a bond that had 
existed from their birth, a cord of affinity reach- 
ing from one life to the other. 

As from the furnace of the mid-day sun shafts 
of heat had penetrated into the ice-bound bosom 
of the waters, melting the frozen exterior be- 
neath which the eddy and flow of the deep were 
incarcerated, so this movement of soul recogni- 
tion burst asunder the impregnable citadel of 
indifference and haughty reserve — all dissolved 
into a resistless current of boundless love. 

It was the meeting of two drifting souls which 
through time and space had floated abreast and 
knew each other. With this awakening embar- 
rassment and reserve went to the winds. 

With merry shouts the skaters passed to and 
fro on the glittering thoroughfare; but Baxter 
and Gypta slowly made their way to a distant 
shore of the lake, unconscious of all else save 


144 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


their little world, a world whose gravitation is 
love, and whose limit encompasses the universe, 
but in which only two can abide. The twin stars 
of faith and hope illuminate this planet. When 
the shadows fall the glory of love is the sun that 
vivifies and radiates with the warmth and fresh- 
ness of an eternal morning. It is a world that 
satisfies a groping and hungry soul. An en- 
trance through its portals means heaven gained. 

Into this sphere Baxter and Gypta passed, 
while on the axis of destiny rotation began. 

As though they had Imown each other always, 
they threaded their way through the merry 
throng. The calm of sweet contentment was on 
Gypta ’s face, and everything save the present 
was blotted from her existence. In the silence 
that fell on them it seemed to her the realization 
of the whole longing of her life — a yearning that 
in some inscrutable bewildering fashion he ap- 
peared to share with her, and communicate with 
every touch of his hand and movement of his 
body. 

^^See, we are nearing the edge of the lake,^^ 
Barron said, looking down at her fixedly. ^ Wour 
friends are awaiting you I suppose. ’ ^ 

^Wes, I suppose so,^^ Gypta answered; a keen 
anguish clutched her; each approaching step 
caused that shore to loom up like an emblem of 
their divided future. 

^ ^ Miss Levering, before we part I wish to ask 
that the peril we have encountered together may 
plead in extenuation for my seeming rudeness, 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


289 


subject? Poor child, she doesn’t know,” and a 
shade of anxiety passed over Mrs. Bailey’s 
sweet, gentle face. 

^‘Most assuredly! Most assuredly do so, 
Martha. You’re right, I’ve thought the same 
thing ; but the girl seems as if she ’s not afraid of 
anything on God’s earth, and Geddings begged 
that we would encourage her to live in the open 
air as much as possible, and have plenty of exer- 
cise; she surely has had both since she’s been 
here.” 

As the days passed sweetly and calmly by, 
Gypta was growing very fond of this old couple 
and their venerable, isolated home. She had 
thrown aside to a marked extent her reticence 
and reserve, and in little more than a fortnight 
had become a charming necessity to the inmates 
of Graycroft. To her poor lonely heart, Mrs. 
Bailey with her gentle dignity and sweet, motJi- 
erly solicitude was a grateful solace and 
strength, while the old colonel with liis compos- 
ite personality, and strange contradictions, af- 
forded her an endless source of amusement and 
entertainment. 

‘Mt is the first time in all my life I’ve known 
the meaning of home,” thought Gypta as they 
sat beneath the vine- wreathed porch, where tea 
was served during the soft May evenings. Uncle 
Jerrold with silent padding step approached 
with the spacious silver tray wreathed in a mist 
of silvery steam from the fragrant tea. Heaped 
in crisp pyramids were curl wafers, brown as a 


290 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


berry, and spiral as a ringlet. There were bis- 
cuits and bread beaten to a flake, and preserves 
and jellies, and water-melon citron, as clear as 
amber, and so transparent that with triumph 
Aunt Judy had declared ^^was glassy-like enuf 
to see yo’self through.^’ 

This life was restful and beyond what Gypta 
had ever dreamed of, especially as she rode in 
the early mornings under the shadowy solitude 
of cathedral-like trees, with nothing to hear save 
the rustle of the foliage filled with the soft move- 
ments and music of young birds, or the lulling 
cadence of the swish of the distant waters filter- 
ing through the cane and rice lands, and the 
dreamy hum of bees as they drowned their rav- 
ishing greed in the chalice of flowers that sat- 
urated the air with voluptuous odor. Often in 
these rides Gypta passed the negroes on their 
way to the fields. They invariably stepped aside 
with a ‘‘Mornin’, Missus,’^ and an humble 
courtesy. 

Colonel,’^ said Gypta one evening as a crowd 
of negroes passed the house on their way to the 
rice-fields, ^^do I see in the negroes of this sec- 
tion the real type of the African! Do these 
leather-skinned, thick-lipped, brawny creatures 
represent the best element of colored people in 
the South! Are all the race like these I see 
here, laborers who are black and ignorant! I 
mean, colonel, are there not negroes of culture 
with a high standard of morality and education ! 
Must the negro forever be a menial!’^ and her 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


291 


eyes grew Immid and earnest, as she leaned to- 
ward Colonel Bailey, who at this sudden inquiry 
sat upright and turned his blinking eyes full 
upon here. 

^‘Now, do you mean to say. Miss Prescott, 
you’re as ignorant of the negro race as to ask 
that question r’ 

Gypta winced and nervously fingered her rid- 
ing-whip that lay on her lap. 

‘‘Colonel Bailey, you should not be surprised 
at my question. Please remember I Ve only been 
in the South but a short while. My principal ob- 
ject in coming is to study the character and con- 
dition of the colored race. ’ ’ 

“My God, you’re not after all a school- 
marm, a Yankee, like the rest?” the old colonel 
exclaimed in an explosive voice, the veins about 
his throat rising like whip-cords. “Wait a min- 
ute, I’ll just call Martha, Mrs. Bailey, my wife, 
I mean — just ’er moment, Madame.” He was 
rising with a quick, heavy effort in order to 
break the news upon the unsuspecting Mrs. 
Bailey, when Gypta placed her hand upon his 
shoulder, forcing him back into his seat. 

“My dear Colonel Bailey, do not misunder- 
stand me. What was it I said that has excited 
you so? I’m only what I’ve seemed, I scarcely 
know what you mean by a school-marm. I’ve 
never really seen one, and do not know their 
mission. I — I — ” Gypta faltered. 

“Well, now, I declare! Yes, Miss Prescott, 
yes I’m a damn fool — excuse me, I mean I’m a 


292 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


bit nervous. The trouble is, I missed my mint- 
juleji this morning, for the first time in twenty 
y ear s. J errold bruised the 1 eaves — and — ^well, you 
donT know what that means, but every Southern 
woman bred in the right school would know 
that to bruise the leaves in a julep ruins the julep 
and puts the devil in the would-be drinker. Ha, 
ha! Why, Miss Prescott, I well remember my 
father once sent to the cotton-fields his head but- 
ler because he would persist in mashing the mint 
stems, leaves and all. ‘Joe,’ said he, ‘go and 
hoe cotton, that’s all you’re good for.’ Yes, you 
know I missed my julep, and — and — Ah, well, 
I see you’re smiling at the poor old fool that 1 
am. Why, you’re no more like a Yankee school- 
marm, than Beppo ’s like that mule over yonder 
that nigger’s riding. I hope you’ll pardon me. 
Miss Prescott,” and the old colonel rubbed his 
hands together vigorously, a habit he indulged 
in when under agitation or embarrassment. 

“Why, my dear colonel, what have I to par- 
don? You did not say anything to wound me, 
did you ? ’ ’ 

“Good Lord, child! I called you a Yankee 
school-marm. Didn’t you hear me — a school- 
marm ? I swear — I mean I declare ! ’ ’ 

“Is that such a dreadful insult, colonel? ” 

“Most certainly it is; but we won’t go into 
particulars now. I’ll get my wife to tell you all 
about two of these women who came down this 
way to grapple with the poor devils and educate 
them, and evangelize them, and all such non- 


A SON OF CAKOLINxi 


293 


sense. She ’ll tell you. I ’m calm now, and I pre- 
fer not getting heated up again. ’ ’ 

Very well, colonel,” Gypta said in her sweet, 
reassuring way. ^‘We won’t get excited, and I 
want to assure you of my utter ignorance on the 
negro subject. As I have told you, before com- 
ing South I’d never spoken to more than a half- 
dozen colored people in all my life. In my trav- 
els heretofore I’ve made a study of every phase 
of domestic and social life, among the people 
with whom I came in contact; for instance, I’ve 
spent days and nights in the cotter’s home in 
the north of Scotland, and in the south of France 
I went among the gleaners and grape gatherers 
in the vineyards, and once in the Tyrol I visited 
an old peasant’s home, and learned straw plait- 
ing from the grandmother, and played games 
with the children. Someway I love to get near 
to the home-life of the poor x)eople. ’ ’ 

The old colonel pursed his lips and nodded his 
head thoughtfully. There was an interval of si- 
lence. Gypta was searching his face eagerly. 
There were some things she wished settled in 
her mind then and forever. 

‘ ‘ Colonel, you haven ’t answered my question, ’ ’ 
Gypta said, anxious to fasten his mind on a sub- 
ject that had become to her of such vital im- 
portance. 

^‘H’m!” he grunted in a tone of interroga- 
tion. 

‘‘Do you not think the negro with proper ad- 
vantages is capable of occupying a higher plane 


294 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


than that of ‘hewers of wood and drawers of 
water, ’ as the Good Book puts it ? Do you think 
they must forever toil and dig as slaves of hum- 
ble drudgery? I ask tliis for information. I’m 
keeping a little note-book about my visit South, 
you see. ’ ’ 

“H’m!” and the old colonel placed himself 
firmly in the chair. 

“My dear young lady, now you may write this 
in your little book and underline it three times in 
red marks. By one who knows. Now, I think 
when I tell you that for more than forty years 
I’ve owned and come in dailj^ contact with one 
thousand slaves, you will agree that I have 
served an apprenticeship which qualifies me to 
speak with authority. I have had long enough 
experience with the negro race to claim certain 
knowledge of the processes of its growth, devel- 
opment, and limitations. In my long contact 
with them I’ve learned the art of dealing with 
them and maintaining conditions of mutual ad- 
vantage and preserving the most perfect accord. 
Now, I assert that the South is the only part of 
the country that understands the negro. Why, 
my dear Miss Prescott, the good Lord in His 
work of creation adapted each people to its suit- 
able environment. He made the South, the land 
of corn and cotton, which products mature to 
perfect fruition only under Southern suns, and 
in doing this, by His divine methods He brought 
to us the negro, who is essentially a man of toil, 
to till and dig and reap. His skull was made 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


295 


hard and strong as the shell to the cocoanut, so 
as to resist the blaze of the mid-day sun ; and the 
soles of his feet are shod in sandals of tough 
leathery skin that they might tramp the rough 
furrows and rocky ways. He is our human mule, 
and is just about as capable of bringing his brain 
force to a higher plane as the said mule is able to 
enter the turf and put his speed against that of 
a blooded racer. Now, my dear young lady, you 
have only to go to your history to find that since 
the creation of the world the negro has always 
been a menial. The record of every nationality 
of ancient times, sustained by our own experi- 
ence with the negro in the United States, is that 
the white must be master of the negro, else the 
two races can never live together in peace. This 
is the law of God, and it has cost every nation of 
ancient times its existence that dared to violate 
this law. And you may also write tliis in your 
little book that when left alone the negro is as 
happy and trustful a race as can be found under 
heaven. The Northern mind is absolutely in- 
capable of understanding the harmonious condi- 
tions under which we have lived. Their preju- 
diced, Pharisaical nonsense in sending down 
among us wolves in sheep’s clothing to educate 
and evangelize the ^poor down-trodden negro’ 
has done more than aught else to break up his 
happy-go-lucky life by putting the poison of a 
false ambition in his mind and playing the devil 
generally. Damn ’em ! All we want is to be left 
alone ! ’ ’ 


29G 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Here the old colonel choked and coughed in 
embarrassment. 

Pardon me, I forgot, and for the moment 
thought I was on the stump at a political meet- 
ing; but I mean just what I say, and no use to 
try and put it in more polished language. You hi 
excuse me, I’m sure you’re now used to my pe- 
culiar mode of delivering my opinions. It’s just 
my way, and, hang it ! I ’m too old to modify my 
utterances. Jerrold,” the old colonel called 
loudly, ‘Hwo juleps, and, Jerrold, hear me! 
Don’t you bruise the mint.” 

‘ ^ Now, heah mans ter, ’ ’ and Jerrold drew him- 
self up with injured dignity. ^ ^ He know I ain ’t 
gwine mash der mint leaves nor der stems. I 
bin make ’em julep ail of forty year or mo’, an’ 
he still tell me dat ’ar advice, like I ain’ never 
I’arn.” 

This the old servant said to himself as he 
courtseyed low and turned toward the mint plot 
that grew luxuriously near the garden wall. 

^‘Colonel, do I tire you with my questions?” 
No? Then thank you so much. May I ask just 
one more ? It is rather a delicate subject, but as 
I’ve told you, I’m anxious to learn everything I 
can in the short while I’m here, of this race 
problem.” 

‘‘Ask just as many questions as you please, 
my dear young friend. It does me good to know 
that you will carry with you absolute facts and 
not the distorted prejudiced views that most 
Northern people persist in absorbing from fal- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


297 


lacious information. Now, what is it you wish 
to knowT^ and Colonel Bailey clasped his hands 
clumsily and protruded his chin with an air of 
attention. 

^ ^ Colonel, I want you to tell me the exact posi- 
tion a person of mixed blood occupies among the 
best people of the South. ^ ’ 

‘ ‘ Mulattoes, you mean 1 ’ ’ Colonel Bailey asked 
abruptly. 

‘‘Not exactly — I mean one in which the white 
blood predominates to a very great extent, so 
much so that it is in no way traceable. Could 
not a person so slightly tainted, under favorable 
conditions, occupy an equal position with the 
best class of whites T’ 

‘ ‘ Never ! ’ ^ ejaculated Colonel Bailey, bringing 
down his hand heavily on the arm of his chair. 
“Never he repeated. “Though that person 
had the most towering intellect, the most bound- 
less genius, the result is the same. With us every 
individual whose kin is white, or relatively so, is 
recognized as pure white ; but should it be known 
that he or she were of negro extraction, without 
reference to complexion, superior intelligence or 
anything else, they are recognized as negroes. 
The smallest taint of the negro blood brands on 
them the curse of amalgamation which is the vio- 
lation of God’s law.” 

Gypta sank back and closed her eyes. Her 
face was pallid and she bit her lips nervously. A 
pang was at her heart. The doubts that had 
harassed her were not void of hope. What she 


298 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


had just listened to was a repetition of what she 
had heard from Baxter ^s lips. There could be 
no more doubt, and the last glimmer of hope 
went down as a pale, quivering star in the black- 
ness of an eternal night. The full force of her 
degradation had never so poignantly assailed 
her. 

Fortunately, Colonel Bailey having caught 
sight of Jerrold^s advancing figure, his atten- 
tion was diverted for the moment to that worthy 
tray-bearer, and the effect his words had on 
Gypta was not noticed by him. 

‘^Ah! by that aroma I know the rascal hasnT 
bruised the mint ; but as I was saying — ’’ 

Here Gypta arose. ‘‘Thank you. Colonel 
Bailey, no julep for me — no, nothing at all ; and 
oh! I’m so grateful for all the information 
you’ve given me. Yes, I’ll note it in my little 
book.” Here she paused, and smiled sadly as 
Colonel Bailey pressed her to have just one sip 
from the glass which he gallantly extended to 
her. 

“Just one sip then. I can resist neither your 
gallantry, colonel, nor the delicious pungency of 
this nectar, ’ ’ and she held the glass to her lips ; 
the fresh julep and fragrant leaves brushing her 
cheek revived her for the moment. 

“I’m not surprised you Southern people make 
so much over your mint-julep. You see that too, 
is something new to me. Ah! how much we 
have to learn — eh. Colonel?” and with well-as- 
sumed gaiety she threw a smiling glance at her 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


299 


genial host, and passed down the long porch, 
then up stairs to her room. Throwing herself 
upon the lounge, face downward, she burst into a 
flood of tears. She was not only homeless, but 
she was a product of the violation of God^s law. 
To belong to a people who toiled in the field and 
furrow as their birthright, was terrible, but to 
bear the brand of the curse was omnipresent and 
irrevocable. There was nothing more for her to 
bear. It was as though she had gone on, on, on, 
the quicksand beneath her gradually lowering 
until she was plunged into the dense blaclmess 
of the most hopeless night. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


‘H do not think it prudent or safe for you to 
ride alone as yon do, my child. Conditions are 
so different from what they once were in the old 
days. I mean you should never leave the main 
road; I see by those bay blossoms youVe been 
in the Ashley River jungles. 

Why, dear Mrs. Bailey, my spoils have found 
me out, so I hi have to confess, ’ ’ and Gypta held 
aloft her arms full of vines and flowers. 

‘‘Take these, Peggy, and be sure you give 
them plenty of water. They are used to water, 
you know. ’ ^ 

“Yes, ma’am,’’ said the maid; “but. Missus, 
this yallar jassamine is pisen if you ain’ sure to 
keep it out of yo ’ mouth. I never see de like, ’ ’ 
Peggy mumbled as she made her way up stairs. 
“Missis Gyp, she mus’ sure be fond- like of dese 
pisen blossoms. Every day she come an’ trash 
up her room wid de dry-like stems an’ leaves, 
for de flowers done drap, dey day is over now ; 
but she ’pears to be satisfied wid de vines. Now, 
dese bay blossoms is somethin’ like, but de Lord 
only know what Miss Gyp want all dis trash 
fer.” Thus she mumbled as her brown hands 
moved deftly among the tangle of vines. 

“Why, Mrs. Bailey, do you think it dangerous 
for me to ride through the woods ? They are so 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


301 


quiet and restful, wliat can Larm me? Surely, 
there are no wild beasts or hobgoblins,’^ and 
Gypta swayed her riding-whip to and fro as she 
glanced with a smile at Mrs. Bailey, whose white 
face was serious to sternness. 

‘^How little you know, my child,” and Mrs. 
Bailey lowered her voice. ‘ ‘ Only this morning a 
terrible story of crime has come to us, one I 
dislike to pollute your innocence by retailing, 
yet it is but right that you should know.” 

Gypta shuddered as she listened. In a low, 
awed voice Mrs. Bailey told of a heinous crime 
committed only a few miles distant. How a lit- 
tle child who was gathering berries in a lonely 
wood had been fiendishly murdered. 

‘^Oh! Mrs. Bailey, I supposed such crimes 
were enacted only in savage lands, where they 
burn and eat each other, ’ ’ and Gypta buried her 
face in her hands. 

‘ The blood of the savage is still in the veins of 
the negroes, my dear,” Mrs. Bailey continued 
calmly. ‘^We have civilized them to an extent, 
and while under bondage their brutal nature is 
subjugated, but since emancipation they are 
gradually asserting their natural instincts. Such 
terrible crimes as IVe told you of are perpe- 
trated by the younger generation. The old- 
South negro, who represents the South of law 
and order, condemns the brutality and vicious- 
ness of such crimes as we condemn them. The 
war with its conquering results has proved a 
great calamity to the race. Like lost children 


302 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


the poor deluded creatures are wandering from 
pillar to post. As old Joseph, the coachman, 
said to me the other day, after attending a meet- 
ing where the blessing of freedom had been dis- 
cussed by the negro parson, ‘Missus, dey talk 
^bout freedom an’ all it’s dun for de nigger. I 
’low it only lead ’em on like de jack’er lanton 
an’ make ’em b’lieve he gwine lead ’em some- 
whar, an’ when he start he keep trompin’ an’ ’er 
trompin’ in de swamp an’ de marsh an’ findin’ 
nothin ’ an ’ nowhar. ’ ’ ’ 

It appeared to Oypta that each day revealed 
a new phase in the character of her people, and 
she was stupefied by this last blow. A physical 
terror came down upon her, a monster fear had 
seized her, and as she took her usual ride the 
following day she dared not leave the public 
road. The dense woody retreats in wliich she 
had found such solace and repose and which had 
seemed to generate a narcotic and in some way 
assuage the medley of her sufferings, now be- 
came haunts of terror, where some savage, law- 
less beast might crouch and await its innocent 
prey. Although a woman not given to foolish 
fears, her nerves had been overwrought by what 
Mrs. Bailey had told her, and now as she gal- 
loped swiftly down the broad, forest-fringed 
road, tremblings passed over her, and a feeling 
of conquering d^espair throbbed in her heart with 
terrible insistence. She now found herself spec- 
ulating on Avhat life would be like when she had 
gone from Graycroft. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


303 


The air, though fragrant and balmy, had a 
subtle reminder of increasing inertia and mid- 
summer warmth. She Imew that soon she must 
go. ‘‘Go where! Go where!^’ she repeated to 
the rhythmic pounding of the horse ^s hoofs. 
AVith these speculations she slackened her pace, 
then suddenly halted on hearing the sound of 
approaching voices. Ominous and hideous and 
clamorous was the sound as it swelled louder 
and louder. 

“Oh, my God! what is it!^^ Gypta moaned, a 
sickening sense of fear almost causing her to 
reel backward. Suddenly she recovered herself 
with the reassuring thought that it was ‘ ‘ Carni- 
val Week^^ in Charleston, and this probably was 
a crowd of riff-raff revelers returning home. 

Nearer came the muffled sound of shuffling, 
hurrying feet, with yells of triumph. 

“We must get out of sight, Beppo,’’ Gypta 
said, riding a few paces back from the road, un- 
der cover of the thick, overhanging foliage. 

“Beppo, we can see now and not be seen,^’ 
Gypta said, stroking her horse ’s head gently. 

“Now, don’t neigh or jump, do you under- 
stand?” 

Beppo turned his head and gave a gentle 
stamp by way of reply. 

As the voices came nearer Gypta peered 
through the interlacing branches and saw that 
the crowd was no home-coming of merrymakers, 
but something that made her shudder with ter- 
ror. 


304 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


A hundred or more men of varying ages were 
marching en masse, some jumping and gesticu- 
lating wildly, while others, evil-browed, mut- 
tered oaths and with bowed heads trod on with 
impatient, determined steps. Heading the crowd 
a tall, brawny man with l)ared head bore in his 
arms a child. Gypta parted the leaves, through 
which she caught a glimpse of a tangle of yellow 
hair and a little white face, and dimpled bare 
limbs besmirched with blood. 

Amid moans and yells, a man’s voice ascended 
above the balance of sound. 

^ ‘ Come, boys, and while his head is sizzing and 
the beast is roasting, let his eyes rest on the 
cause for which he dies. Hurry on. Oil and 
matches will be our judge and jurors. They’ll 
decide this case.” With renewed yells, the 
crowd quickened their pace, as a tall, dark fig- 
ure, bound head and foot, reeled and tottered 
in his effort to walk. 

In a vague way Gypta divined the terror of 
the thing. As though she were herself in peril, 
she shivered and trembled, and prayed. ‘^Oh, 
God! Get me out of this,” she murmured, as 
she saw that within a hundred yards the crowd 
had turned from the road and entered the woods, 
where they halted. 

A mocking-bird whirled from the thicket with 
its caroling song. A bevy of gray squirrels chat- 
tered saucily in defiance as they scattered amid 
the tree-tops like bits of living silver. 

‘‘Here’s a stump spouting with resin, just the 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


161 


sports. Why, some of our most distinguished 
men were enthusiasts on the subject. Soon after 
the Revolutionary war there were Generals 
Hampton, Alston, Washington, Richardson, 
Sumter, and a host of others, all noted turfmen.’’ 

‘‘Yes, those names are all familiar to me, par- 
ticularly that of Wade Hampton,” said the griz- 
zly old colonel. “I’ve met him face to face at 
some distance; and I confess before our intro- 
duction was over I widened the distance as much 
as possible. By George! but he is a tighter — 
yes, in my opinion, one of the foremost soldiers 
of modern times.” 

“We agree,” and Baxter held out his hand to 
Colonel Grant, who took it heartily. 

“I say, boys, prepare for a nap. They are 
waking up the late unpleasantness ; or suppose 
we go and leave the field to those who like to 
fight the battle over, ’ ’ Dexter said, laughing. 

“No, no, we have too much consideration for 
you gentlemen.” “Well, I guess, Baxter, Cor- 
net was a great fortune to your father, was he 
not?” Grant said, resuming the subject of 
horse-racing. 

‘ ‘ Very valuable, ’ ’ said Baxter ; ‘ ‘ and you must 
know. Colonel,” he continued, “racing was far 
different then from what it is now. The excite- 
ment and pride centred in the possession of a 
thoroughbred animal and not in the stakes. The 
object was to improve the breed of race-horses, 
and they were run by the owners for the satis- 
faction of having their stock distinguished.” 


162 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘‘Do you mean no prize or purser^ 

“Well, usually the prize was a piece of silver 
plate or an elegantly wrought gold cup, but 
never a purse, ’ ^ replied Baxter. ‘ ‘ There is noth- 
ing I value more than a cup that I inherited. It 
has been used at our family gatherings as the 
Baxter loving-cup ever since my first memory. 
You see in the South Carolina Jockey Club there 
was a rule that the cup, if won three times con- 
secutively by the party who entered the horse, 
became his permanently. My grandfather’s 
Flash Light won this in 1824. The trophy is of 
massive gold, a vase-shaped affair. Oh, yes, I 
value that beyond all my possessions.” 

“ Well, our stakes of to-day are not quite so 
distinguished, but far more stimulating. ’ ’ 

“My! how I should like to have lived down 
South in those days,” said Delafield warmly. 

“Yes, those were glorious times, and the turf- 
men of those days were bred in a lofty, honest 
school. It was before corruption and thievery 
crept in and were tolerated by turfmen. My fa- 
vorite sport, though, was fox-hunting. There 
was a time in the South when every man who 
could afford it kept his pack of hounds and his 
hunter. We of the younger generation love it 
as our fathers did, but very few there are of us 
who now can afford to indulge in such a luxury. 
I have an old hunter that is the hero of a thou- 
sand chases, and he can take a fence or a ditch 
in perfect safety to himself and his rider. My 
last fox-hunt in South Carolina before coming 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


163 


here was led by old Bertrand. Oh! my blood 
tingles when I think of it. The sound of the horn 
at early dawn, the fresh odor of the woods and 
the keen, cool air ; the chase over fields through 
meadows, up and down hills, once out again mile 
after mile. The running dogs, the fox barely 
in view, his tail erect. Gen. M. C. Butler was 
in the party, and by all odds the handsomest and 
most dashing figure I have ever seen. Dressed 
in his hunting-suit, his feet spurred, and keen 
riding-whip in his hand, it was plain to see he 
was out for the brush. Yes, we all wanted it and 
rode for it. It was a desperate run. The fox 
was an old red fellow that evaded the trail most 
wonderfully. The dogs lost the trail, when sud- 
denly old red bounded out of the woods, his tail 
straight out, his mouth opened, and his tongue 
hanging far out. Zeno, a graceful black dog, 
passed like the wind, jumping at every bound 
or fairly skimming over the earth. The woods 
rang and echoed with the music of the yelling 
hounds. Every hunter seemed to feel the thrill 
of the chase. Matty Quid and Aratus were run- 
ning neck to neck in front. Suddenly the fox, 
pressed hard, bounded into the cotton-fields; 
there on, in, and out his keen red body like a 
blade cutting in the snow-white furrows. Then 
he lagged a little as he made a bound under a 
thicket. A moment more the dogs were upon 
him, frenzied with their triumph and mutilating 
the poor, panting little fugitive. Butler was on 
the spot first, and with a bound caught the fox 


164 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


and held him high above the reach of the mad- 
dened hounds.’’ 

During this recital Baxter had unconsciously 
risen from his seat, and, with flashing eyes and 
graceful gestures, riveted the attention of his 
listeners; so when the fox was caught the old 
colonel caught a quick breath. 

swear, I feel as if I had followed the hounds 
myself,” he said, pulling vigorously the ends of 
his stiff moustaclie. ‘ ‘ So Butler won the brush, 
did he! Well, like Hampton, he always was a 
winner, and as you say, Baxter, the handsomest 
cavalryman in the United States. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, by far,” said Baxter quietly. “That 
was my last hunt, ’ ’ he continued ; ‘ ‘ and do you 
know, gentlemen, I dream of my old hunter con- 
stantly, although he is dead long ago, and also 
my hunting hounds, each by name. There was 
Zeno ; he was a dog of bone and sinew and won- 
derful speed. I tell you, there is no animal 
known to man with the speed and endurance of 
a well-bred and well developed fox-hound. ’ ’ 
“Why, I thought the greyhound the fleetest 
animal on record, ’ ’ put in Dexter. 

‘ ‘ For a short distance a greyhound has great- 
er speed, but for speed which can be maintained 
for several hours, over swamps, fields, briers, 
tangles, wooded hills, and in fact all broken 
country, I will back the well-bred fox-hound of 
the South. Now, my kennel was composed of 
such dogs. Are you surprised that I dream of 
them!” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


165 


‘‘Well, no; but according to my opinion it’s 
time some pretty woman was filling up your 
sleepy brain, instead of a pack of hunting 
hounds ; and let me here remark, ’ ’ added How- 
ard, the literary man, “your chase after the poor 
little fox is but a picture of life, the pursuit is 
stimulating! We go fuming and tearing after 
a thing that balks our efforts and eludes our 
grasp, but when won, we care no more for it than 
you men cared for the little animal which the 
dogs tore and mangled. ’ ’ 

“Yes, our love affairs, for instance,” Dexter 
continued. 

Just then the door opened and Captain Darcy 
walked in with cheeks aglow and his yellow curls 
crisp from the cold. 

“Come in, old boy! But why the deuce are 
you so late? You’ve missed an exciting — ” 
“Oh, Baxter has told you, has he?” inter- 
rupted Darcy, taking a seat. “Well, if ever a 
man deserved a life-saving medal, he’s that man. 
I swear it was the most romantic affair I ever 
heard of. When the girl told him that she owed 
her life to him, such a look she gave him! It 
was enough to melt all the ice on the lake. ’ ’ 
Baxter arose and gave Darcy a look that si- 
lenced him. 

“Oblige me,” he said firmly and coldly, “by 
saying nothing more on the subject. No, I have 
not mentioned it. I never utter the name of a 
lady in the club-room or in public places. You 
should know that, Darcy. ’ ’ 


1G6 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


There was moment’s silence. Darcy, who 
loved Baxter, understood him too well to be of- 
fended by this remark. 

‘‘Oh, well,” said he in his usual light-hearted 
way, ‘ ‘ come take a seat, and we will talk about 
blue fishing, or the next game at Cedar Hurst, 
or — or — ” 

“No,” said Baxter, regaining his pleasant but 
haughty smile and looking at his watch, ‘ ‘ I must 
leave you now. Good night, gentlemen,” and 
with a bow as stately and graceful as if he had 
left the presence of royalty, he passed out of the 
room, and the sound of his retreating steps soon 
died away. 

“That fellow is as inflammable as gunpow- 
der, ’ ’ remarked one of the men. 

“That he is, and as true a gentleman as ever 
breathed, ’ ’ replied Darcy. 

“He’s too damned proud for this age and 
country,” rejoined Colonel Grant. “It is that 
very spirit that caused the rebellion. ’ ’ 

“And gave us so much trouble to quench,” in- 
terposed Darcy. 

“You’re a trump, my boy,” said the old 
colonel. “If you were as loyal to women as you 
are to your male friends there wouldn’t be so 
much trouble in your social walk. Say, Darcy,” 
he continued, “take something with me; and 
you, gentlemen, what will you have ? ’ ’ 

“All right,” said several voices, “we are with 
you, colonel ; and it is plain Bourbon,” knowing 
as they did the old colonel’s favorite tipple; and 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


167 


soon tlie glasses were filled with ‘‘Old Forrest- 
er/^ while the music of a low and sympathetic 
whistle sounded from beneath the gray mous- 
tache of Colonel Grant. While Union Leaguers 
eschew Bourbon in their politics, yet, as a liquid 
refreshment, they regard it as an amiable bever- 
age and a most excellent antidote for their fre- 
quently recurring thirst. Half their loyalty, and 
all their patriotism, is due to old Bourbon. They 
can “reconstruct^ a barrel of Bourbon without 
a constitutional amendment, and there is no need 
of a “force bilP^ to accomplish the work. 


CHAPTER XV 


It was past midnight. Gypta sat alone in her 
room. An hour before she had bidden Emon 
Hamlin good night, and it was with a sense of re- 
lief that she closed the door and was left to her 
own thoughts. With clenched hands and eyes 
fixed vacantly on the dying embers in the grate, 
she sat. The little clock on the mantel ticked 
busily, yet she cared not for the flight of time 
and did not move. She was rehearsing in her 
mind the morning’s episode at the park. Every 
word Barron Baxter uttered she tried to recall. 
She saw again and again the varying expres- 
sions of his face and traced his profile in the 
lurid coals that were fast melting into ashes. 
The shape of his head and the proud arched lips 
she could have carved from memory. The pres- 
sure of his hand she recalled, and tried again to 
experience the thrill she felt when her hand was 
closely imprisoned in his strong firm grasp. She 
caught her hand, her left with her right, and 
clasped it closely, and smiled. Even the thought 
thrilled her as with the sensation of myriad 
electric needles playing from her head to the 
tips of her toes; joy she never before had felt 
pervaded her entire being. 

‘‘Ah, such eyes!” she murmured, half aloud. 
“Gray? No, deep sapphire with an outer glory 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


169 


circle of prnssian blue, almost black; at times 
they blend into one dark lusterless color, like a 
purple grape when softened by the deep shadow 
of its leaves, soft, drowsy, with no flashes of 
light. They are then sweetest because they are 
so tender without the steel-gray haughty look of 
pride. Ah, Baxter, let me smooth back those 
truant curls. Let me kiss those eyes, those lips.’^ 
and her breast heaved as her breath came quick 
and fast. She reached out her bare arms, her 
eyes closed and her lips trembled with ecstasy. 

‘‘Love! Love! Love! Yes, it is love, I love 
you, I love you, I love you, Barron — Barron 
Baxter, I love you.’^ 

At that moment the jewel on her finger flashed, 
and a serpent bracelet of diamonds, a gift from 
Hamlin, that coiled around her arm caught her 
glance as it seemed to turn to flame and glare at 
her. 

“Come otf, I hate you,’’ she cried, and the 
gentleness of her face in a second changed to an 
expression of rage. Thrusting her fingers 
through the glittering head, she would have 
wrenched it apart, but it was riveted by a magic 
lock, and Emon Hamlin held the key. Jerking 
from her finger the ring he had placed there, 
she was in the act of hurling it into the fire, when 
reason rescued her. She groaned and clasped 
her arms around her knees, rocking to and fro 
in the agony of a wild despair. 

“0 God!” she murmured, “what must I do? 


170 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Christ, hear your child. Help me, help me, help 
me.^^ 

At last tears welled up from her eyes and 
rolled down her cheeks and on her hands and 
lingered upon the jewels that coiled around her 
arm. 

There she sat with sobbing breath, heedless 
that her face and hands were wet with tears. 
The clock struck clear and seemed loud in the 
stillness of the dawn ; ^ ‘ one, two. ^ ’ 

She rose slowly, threw off her wrapper, pushed 
away her slippers, and in an abandonment of 
woe, threw herself heavily on the bed, when her 
thoughts again began painting vivid pictures in 
the darkness. 

‘ ^ Only one hour, ’ ’ she murmured, ‘ ^ I was with 
him, and yet in that hour he has so filled every 
crevice of my life, that without him I do not care 
to live. Oh, I’m foolish! So foolish! when at 
this moment he may be caressing one whom he 
loves. No, no ! I will not believe it. It would 
crush out eternal hope from my soul to know 
that the head of a woman w^as nestled on his 
breast. I would gnaw my way with my teeth 
through an adamantine wall that I might reach 
her and tear her from her resting-place, for it is 
mine! mine! Oh, I believe I am mad! What 
right have I to such thoughts! Am I not to 
marry Emon Hamlin in thirty days! Great 
God ! It cannot be !” and she sat upright in the 
darkness until her brain seemed to turn to 


A SON OF CAROLINA 171 

sponge, and her head reeled and fell wearily 
upon her pillows. 

Soon she slept, but frightful dreams made her 
restless. She dreamed of her approaching mar- 
riage. She heard the music and felt the warmth 
and light from brilliant tapers around the altar. 
It appeared that Baxter was the groom, and her 
soul was full of joy, when suddenly, looking up, 
she descried through the clouds of her bridal 
veil the serene face of Hamlin. In a moment the 
orange blossoms on her brow turned to thorns 
and pierced their sharp points into upas blos- 
soms from which the tongues of adders hissed 
and their sting caused her to awake with a 
start. Then the reality fell upon her with a 
weight on her breast like a bar of lead. 


CHAPTER XVI 


‘ ‘ Gypta, I fear the little affair on the ice yes- 
terday has unnerved you. You look as white as 
ivory and are strangely quiet.’’ This Mrs. Lev- 
ering said the following morning as she and her 
daughter sat together at late breakfast. ‘‘Are 
you not well, dear ? ’ ’ These words were accom- 
panied by a searching look at Gypta that brought 
the color to her pallid cheeks. 

“Yes, I’m well,” Gypta said listlessly as she 
continued to play with the amber grapes which 
the stray rays of sunshine converted into gol- 
den baubles. 

“Well, I scarcely slept an hour unbroken,” 
said Mrs. Levering; “all night I was picturing 
your narrow escape. It was well that some one 
was near to warn you. I shudder at the thought 
of your danger.” 

“Yes,” exclaimed Gypta, with animation, “it 
was brave and daring in Mr. Baxter. Why, 
mother dear, he actually risked his life to save 
me.” 

Tut, tut!” rejoined Mrs. Levering, with em- 
phasis; “nothing more than he should have 
done. A hod-carrier couldn ’t have done less. ’ ’ 

A frown darkened Gypta ’s face, hut she made 
no reply. 

“I invited Mr. Baxter to call,” said Mrs. Lev- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


173 


ering, ‘‘you made him such a hero, and intro- 
duced him as the savior of your life. He is a 
gentleman and possibly will understand the pe- 
culiar circumstances forced me to be polite. So 
I don’t suppose we will be troubled with a call 
from the aristocratic gentleman. They say he 
has the pride of J ulius Caesar, and is desperately 
poor. These Southerners generally are poor, it 
seems to me, and the lower they descend in pov- 
erty, the higher soars their pride. ’ ’ 

Gypta turned and faced Mrs. Levering. 

“And for that reason,” said she, “I admire 
them. In some sections a rag-picker, by the 
magic touch of hard work and luck, has rags 
transformed into ermine and cloth of gold, with 
which he covers himself and can enter any fold. 
He is like the disguised ass under the lion’s skin, 
but I never lose sight of the ears ; they will ob- 
trude, no matter how hard he may try to conceal 
them wdth jeweled nails or draw over them the 
trappings of his newly proven robes of gold. 
No, no!” she continued, “I admire the people 
who can stand before the world realizing 
strength from the consciousness of inherent 
greatness, and who are not dependent on money, 
money ! 

“A Southern lady or a Southern gentleman,” 
Gypta continued warmly, “though he or she 
were clad in tatters and stood with empty hands, 
would maintain the dignity, elegance, and cul- 
ture that have crowned them through genera- 
tions. The more they become disrobed of their 


174 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


wealth to a greater advantage do they reveal 
the symmetry and beauty of their character. 
Like the Eyfrida we were just reading about, 
when the vandals tore away its veil its polished 
marble disclosed new beauties. Ah! No, my 
dear mother, there are no protruding ears to dis- 
figure that type of man or woman,’’ and Gypta’s 
full lips broke into a cynical smile. 

Before Mrs. Levering could reply, a servant 
entered and handed Gypta a note. 

^‘Please, ma’am, the bearer awaits a reply,” 
said she. 

Gypta was accustomed daily to receive notes, 
yet as she hastily broke the seal of the hand- 
somely crested envelope her heart beat quick and 
loud, her finger tips grew cold, and she felt flit- 
ting blushes over her face. 

Mrs. Levering noted her agitation and looked 
steadily at her. Her lips were dry and stiff as 
she said: 

‘‘Your note must contain something serious; 
you are agitated, Gypta. Is Mr. Hamlin ill ?’ ’ 

For a moment the note shook between her 
fingers, then fluttered to the floor. 

Mrs. Levering repeated the question. 

“There is nothing wrong,” Gypta answered, 
rising. 

“I will answer it,” she said, turning to the 
waiting servant. 

A moment more she was sitting at her desk, 
writing the words that reason and justice for- 
bade, for she was wilfully placing herself in the 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


175 


path of an avalanche. She knew she was putting 
to her lips a chalice that was very sweet, yet 
whose dregs would prove as the juice of crushed 
aloes. She knew all, but a resistless influence 
moved her. 

The note was written bidding Barron Baxter 
call that evening in response to his request. It 
was sealed and handed to the servant. 

‘^Gypta, excuse me,’^ said her mother as she 
followed her, ‘‘but was that note from Mr. Bax- 
ter, the man whom we were just discussing!’’ 

“It was. I have consented to see him this 
evening,” Gypta said firmly. 

Mrs. Levering ’s face became hard and her lips 
compressed. For a moment she was speechless. 

“You have been indiscreet, and I am exceed- 
ingly angered that you should be capable of such 
foolery,” said Mrs. Levering, making an effort 
to control herself. ‘ ‘ Only a few weeks more and 
you are to marry, yet you begin an acquaintance 
that will surely he of no benefit to you, and with- 
out the consent of your future husband, who is 
entitled to your confidence. You should first 
have consulted Mr. Hamlin.” 

Gypta left the room. At that moment Mr. 
Levering entered it. 

“You are just in time, ’ ’ said his wife. ‘ ‘ Eoy, 
what is your opinion of this Mr. Baxter, the 
bank clerk, who made the acquaintance of Gypta 
yesterday at the park! What do you think of 
his asking to call on so short an acquaintance, 
when he knows she is soon to be married ! ’ ’ 


176 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^ Well/^ said Mr. Levering as he slowly pulled 
off his gloves and deliberately folded them to- 
gether, ‘^Barron Baxter holds the enviable posi- 
tion of being a blue-blooded rebel, with more 
genuine pride than any man of his set. But, 
soberly speaking, he is all of that and as great 
a gentleman as could be found in this country. 
No, he is not the one to blame for wishing to call. 
Gypta is the one to exercise judgment in the 
matter. Now, calm yourself and I will tell you 
something. ’ ’ 

‘‘Well, go on,’^ assented Mrs. Levering snap- 
pingly. 

“It concerns the very man we are talking 
about, and — ^you need not mention it’’ — he said 
looking around, “it proves him to be a noble, 
splendid fellow. ’ ’ 

“Pooh!” and Mrs. Levering shrugged her 
shoulders. 

“Well, as I was saying, to-day as I left my 
office I struck up with Joe Simmons, of Charles- 
ton, who invited me to lunch with him. We were 
near the National Bank when one of the hand- 
somest men I ever saw passed. ‘Who is that 
splendid-looking fellow,’ I asked Simmons. 
‘Why,’ said he, ‘that is Baxter, of Carolina; 
thought surely you knew him, he’s a nephew of 
old General Manning.’ 

“Now, that surprises you, doesn’t it?” asked 
Mr. Levering. 

“Yes, but what else?” 

“Well, he went on to tell me how Baxter had 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


177 


shown such generosity and kindness to his cous- 
in, Helen Manning. ’ ’ 

‘ Hs she living was asked eagerly. 

^^No, she died several years ago. Baxter be- 
came sole heir to ‘ Magnolia Hall, ^ that grand old 
mansion on Ashly River, and gave her a home 
until her death, and supported her with his 
earnings and did all that the most loving brother 
could have done. I assure you, hearing this re- 
lieved my mind; I feared she might be still liv- 
ing in poverty. ’ ’ 

‘‘Yes, Ihn certainly glad to hear this,’’ Mrs. 
Levering said; “but hush! there — ” 

“By the way,” he said, turning to Gypta as 
she entered the room, “Emon Hamlin called at 
the office to-day and said he was suddenly sum- 
moned to Boston and might be absent for a week 
or more ; but before going he will see you if only 
for a moment. It is important business that 
calls him away.” 

“Mrs. Levering seemed annoyed, while the 
brightest look came into Gypta ’s eyes, a look 
that we seldom see except in the face of a glad 
child. 

Mrs. Levering noticed it and divined its mean- 
ing. She was too much a woman of the world 
to be blind to the fact that Gypta was interested 
in this new acquaintance. He was handsome 
and dangerously fascinating, and the romantic 
circumstances of their meeting threw a glamour 
of sentiment about him that she felt might prove 


178 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


fatal to Emon Hamlin’s happiness, and, more 
than all, destroy her plans if encouraged. 

Although Mr. Levering sneered at his wife’s 
apprehension regarding Baxter’s first call, he 
himself became annoyed and anxious at the fre- 
quent visits that followed. 

Hamlin was aware of Barron Baxter’s visits 
to the Levering home, but not a thought of sus- 
picion or jealous resentment entered his mind. 
He was confident that Gypta was as securely his 
own as if the marriage vows had been spoken, 
and he knew that Barron Baxter’s pride and 
honor precluded on his part the possibility of an 
unworthy word or action. At this period of his 
active business career he judged all men by his 
own standard of honor, and all women by the 
purity and sanctity in wliich he held the memory 
of his mother. Blinded by his own integrity, he 
believed he was upon a rock when in reality the 
quicksands were gradually lowering beneath his 
supposed security. 

^^Alas,” cried old Eulogious, five centuries 
ago, ‘‘which is more to be desired, honor or wis- 
dom ! ’ ’ 


CHAPTEE XVII 


The afternoon of a cold, bright day was melt- 
ing into evening; perfume and warmth hung 
like a Presence over the Levering drawing-room 
where the intense stillness was broken only by 
the falling of a loose coal from the grate and 
the clock that ticked away the heart-throbs of 
time. 

For many minutes Gypta had sat looking 
steadily into the fire while her hands clasped 
an unclasped nervously. 

‘ ‘ Will he never speak 1 ^ ’ was her mute inquiry 
as from her heavy-lidded eyes a secretive glance 
was turned to Barron Baxter, who leaned 
against the mantel opposite to where she sat. 
His figure like an English guardsman, strong 
and graceful, now wavered as he began to pace 
the length of the room under the strain of an 
impending catastrophe that seemed to presage 
death and ruin. Suddenly, as if in response to 
that look of mute inquiry, he turned to Gypta, 
and paused a moment. 

Monstrous fear came into her face, and she 
shrank back at a revelation before which she 
trembled. He was going away — she had failed 
to hold him ! 

‘‘Good-by, Miss Levering; it is unwise and 
useless to prolong my stay. You have been a 


180 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


sweet, noble friend, one 1^11 not soon forget; 
nothing can rob me of memory — that at least is 
mine. Good-by, and God bless you,’^ this he 
said holding his hand to Gypta, who limply put 
out her ice-cold fingers. 

You mean — good-by just for to-day — do you 
not! Only for a little while you say good-by, 
just until to-morrow!’’ 

‘ ‘ No, Miss Levering, I will never come again, ’ ’ 
said Barron, regaining liis composure. ex- 
pect to leave New York to-morrow. I will spend 
the remainder of my life in the South. I want to 
build up the wasted estate which I inherited, 
and that my long negligence has allowed to go 
to ruin. My life will doubtless be one of iso- 
lation, yes, and I may add desolation.” With 
these words his smooth brow rolled into fur- 
rows as a despairing look dulled his eyes. 

With a quick, desperate movement and reck- 
less emphasis he grasped both of Gypta ’s hands, 
almost crushing them in his own. must go ; 
good-by. Miss Levering.” 

Scarcely had he uttered the word when he saw 
a deadly pallor spread over Gypta ’s face and 
her lips part in an etfort to speak. She tot- 
tered and fell forward. Her head would have 
struck the mantle, but he caught her. She had 
not fainted, but was like one who suddenly loses 
light and gropes in the dark. 

Baxter placed her in the nearest chair, and 
drawing another very close to her began to rub 


A SON OF CAROLINA 181 

her hands vigorously, as her head rested on a 
cushion. 

At last she murmured, ‘ ^ Good-by, Mr. Baxter ; 
good-by, good-by. I did not know you were go- 
ing away, ^ ’ and in an effort to rise she fell wear- 
ily into the chair. 

‘‘Miss Levering,’^ said Baxter, trying to 
steady his voice into calmness, “I have acted 
wrong, very wrong, I, who was taught from boy- 
hood that honor was dearer than life ; and was 
trained to believe a man^s honor was as precious 
as the salvation of his soul ; I, who thought my- 
self strong and chivalric, to-day confess that 
I^m weak as other men. I have not had the 
courage to resist seeing you. I knew from the 
first that you were the pledged wife of another. 
You even confessed it to me. I wish to God I 
had been stronger ! and on the day I saved you 
from that icy chasm, I had left you, never to 
look upon your face again. Ah, it would have 
been better, far better, that the opening jaws 
of death had taken me in than that I should have 
lived to see the day that I allowed desire to dom- 
inate justice, reason, and honor. 

As Baxter spoke he stood before Gypta. He 
dared not look at her, but gazed over her droop- 
ing figure as if addressing some one beyond. 
Had he seen the mute, pleading eyes and the ago- 
nized, parted lips his sense of honor and regard 
for what was due his fellow-man and all else of 
the world in general would have been ignored, 
and he would have fallen at Gypta ’s feet and so 


182 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


confessed, one word, one look, and like the Alpine 
avalanche that hurls mountains to atoms by 
the vibration of a single sound, so the pride and 
chivalry of generations that had crystallized in 
his character would have snapped like a reed in 
the wrenching desolation. He felt this, yes, he 
knew it, and with clenched hands and furrowed 
face he stood manfully striving to maintain his 
honor, though with its triumph his whole lifers 
hopes perished. 

‘ ^ Then you do love me, ’ ^ Gypta said with pas- 
sionate impulse as she sprang forward and put 
out her arms to him ; she stood so close that her 
quick, warm breath touched his neck and cheek. 
He could hear her heart beat and see her tumul- 
tuous bosom heave. 

‘‘Love me! Love me.^^ she murmured caress- 
ingly as her soft dimpled arms fell upon his 
shoulder, and her eyes, shadowed and drowsy, 
looked into his. 

The temptation of Saint Anthony was feeble 
and frosty in comparison with Barron’s strug- 
gle ; nor did Julius Caesar or Hannibal fight for 
victory more gallantly with living forces than 
Baxter contended with the conflicting emotions 
that now so strongly confronted him. 

“Love me! Only love me!” she murmured 
again and again. A moment more and he would 
have forgotten all save the dusky, pleading face 
with its cloud of disheveled hair, and eyes of 
beautiful agony, but he suddenly inhaled the 
perfume of the jassamine that she wore at her 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


183 


breast, and its subtle fragrance recalled bim to 
bis duty, just as tbe breatb of fresb air will call 
to life tbe man wbo is dying of suffocation. 

It was tbe flower that permeated all tbe mem- 
ories of bis cbildbood associations. Tbe borne 
of bis father arose before bim, and by some spir- 
itual photography of memory be saw the calm, 
sweet face of his mother and the proud form of 
bis father, who taught him from fos cradle that 
true pride meant courage, and weakness was not 
tbe heritage of tbe Baxters. That father who 
was so cold, strong, and yet so gentle, seemed 
to rise before him and bid him remember his 
manhood and his duty to his fellow-man. 

Only the scent of the jassamine, yet it infused 
into his veins the old heroic courage ; because it 
was the odor of the flower that clambered about 
the columns and traditional oaks of the old 
Southern homestead. 

A moment more he was calm. He retreated 
a step, when his usual dignity controlled him. 
His being; that had been charged as if with 
melted lava, became impregnated with the 
strength of iron. His quivering face was cold 
and immovable. 

“Miss Levering, what does all this meanT^ he 
asked in an unfaltering voice as he led her to a 
divan, upon which she fell wearily. “I fail to 
understand. You ask me to love you, though 
you are pledged to become the wife of another. 
You will soon take upon yourself a vow that im- 
poses the most sacred and serious obligations 


184 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


that can come to any woman life. The man 
who awaits the passing of a few days before he 
can claim yon as his wife, trusts you, and be- 
lieves me — Barron Baxter — to be an honorable 
man, believing us both loyal to every instinct of 
justice and right. No man shall ever say that I am 
a betrayer of a trust, and no woman shall ever ac- 
cuse me of leading her away from duty and vir- 
tue. Ah! Gypta, though disappointment eats 
my heart away, and though it die and shrivel 
with hopelessness, my honor shall bear no tar- 
nish. ’ ’ 

With those words he stood erect, the old time 
hauteur curving his lips and shining in his eyes. 

‘‘Good-by, Gypta,’’ he said, holding out his 
hand to her. ‘ ‘ Be true to every obligation that 
you soon will assume. Remember me as one who 
was strong enough to sacrifice every hope in 
life, that you might be true to the vows which 
bind you. ’ ’ 

Gypta was only a woman. Love had become 
her master, and she desired none other. She 
saw nothing holier or higher. Every duty and 
obligation in comparison, and all else, seemed a 
hollow sham under the domination of this love. 
Barron Baxter had become her God, and to him 
she bowed with pagan idolatry. Her world was 
narrowed to one human life, and about that life 
was kindled every hope and desire of her exist- 
ence. While Baxter was speaking, like a beauti- 
ful panther she crouched among the cushions of 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


185 


the divan and listened in silence to his words un- 
til he gave her his hand and said, ‘ ‘ Good-by. ’ ’ 

Stung into action, all her languor and melt- 
ing passions gave way to barbaric fierceness, 
and she sprang forward and frantically clutched 
his arm. 

^‘Barron Baxter, you say you are a man of 
honor, and yet you would have me marry a man 
whom you Imow I do not love. You bid me be- 
come wife in name only, for you know full well 
that you are my king, my idol. Yes, heart of 
my heart and life of my life. Which consider 
you more honorable, to bow before an idol that 
God has fashioned in his own mysterious way, 
that controls heart, soul, and body, yes, life 
itself, or to kneel to one of gold or stone; one 
that satisfies ambition, but leaves the breast ever 
aching and the heart empty? 

‘ ‘ No, no, ’ ^ she cried, ‘ ^ though I may never see 
you again, I shall never become the wife of 
Emon Hamlin or the wife of any man. When I 
consented to marry him I didn^t know the mean- 
ing of love, such a feeling had never even grazed 
my heart. I thought it all nonsense, a mere 
sham and sentiment to inspire poets and artists. 
I didn’t dream that anything so holy and joy- 
ous could bless this mortal life. It is no perjury 
now in refusing to become his wife. No, I shall 
never marry Ernon Hamlin. Even you would 
have me wear a gilded crown ; and see me cruci- 
fied on a golden cross, though my heart dripped 
with tears of blood ; you like the rest would ham- 


186 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


mer the jeweled nails into my heart. No ! No ! 
No! better that I die in purity and honor, for 
what means a loveless marriage hut the blackest 
infamy from which my whole being recoils. I 
vow to you, Barron Baxter, before I will act 
such mockery I’ll make that veil my winding- 
sheet, and those blossoms will be the flowers of 
the dead ! Do you hear me, thou honorable man? 
Before you bade me thus perjure myself, I be- 
lieved that you loved and respected me ; but you 
hate me, you hate me; other\^se you could not 
open the portals of falsehood and say, ‘ Though 
your heart remains empty and aching, and 
though your soul is blackened by perjury, enter 
thou in.’ Farewell, oh, thou chivalric gentle- 
man ! Thou scion of an aristocracy whose tra- 
ditions of honor thou hast so nobly inherited! 
Thou loyal representative of thy race! I bid 
thee an humble farewell. ’ ’ 

With these words she gazed over her shoulder 
at him derisively, her dazzling teeth gleaming 
from beneath her curled red lips with a con- 
temptuous sneer. She reared aloft her dusky 
head, and, gathering aside her filmy skirts, 
would have swept from his presence, but Baxter 
sprang forward and detained her. 

‘‘Oh, Gypta, stay and hear me! I love you 
better than pride, country, name — yes, even 
honor ! Let all perish before such love as ours ! 
Gypta, come to me, my wife, my love, ’ ’ and with 
pleading anguish he held out his arms. ‘ ‘ Come ! ’ ’ 
he said, “my wife ! ’ ’ 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


187 


Gypta met liis burning gaze unmoved, and 
folding ber skirts, stepped back. 

‘‘Gypta, come to me; love is greatest 
The inflexible look in her face melted to gentle 
submission. Putting out her arms she crept 
close to his breast and pressed her face against 
his neck, but no word moved her lips. His arms 
drew her closer and closer, until the jassamine 
at her breast was crushed and the perfume again 
filled the room. But to Baxter it recalled no 
memory ; to him it was only the drowsy perfume 
of the love-laden lotus blossom, nothing more. 

A pause of intense silence, then Baxter with- 
drew his arm and looked at Gypta, whose face 
was flushed beneath masses of disheveled hair. 

Regaining his composure, he said, “You will 
marry me, Gypta, and willingly brave censure, 
brave all that you must bear for my sake!’^ 
“Barron, love knows not fear,’’ said Gypta. 
‘ ‘ It gives the courage of the lion to the weak, the 
fleetness of the hare to the laggard, and the 
majesty and strength of the eagle to the timid. 
Barron, I am inspired by all these combined. 
Yes, I will marry you.” 

At that moment the spray of jassamine that 
had been bruised at her breast fell to the floor. 
An instant more and it was mangled beneath the 
heavy, unconscious tread of Baxter, who picked 
it up tenderly and handed it to Gypta. 

“Poor, bruised thing, I didn’t mean to harm 
you, ’ ’ said he. “I am too happy to avenge my 
worst enemy. But why do you look so troubled. 


188 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Ma Belle he exclaimed as he caught the face 
of Gypta in his hands, and kissed her hair, her 
eyes, and lips. 

‘ ^ I hope it is no evil omen, ’ ^ said she, looking 
at the flower. ‘‘I am superstitious, you know. 
I remember you said that flower was of a vine 
that had grown for generations on the columns 
of your old Southern home and even grew about 
the vaults as well.’^ 

‘Yes, Gypta, that is so. The vine from which 
this very flower was taken is from a branch root 
1 had transplanted by a florist here. Now, my 
love, you have never seen the Southern jassa- 
mine North, except those I have sent you. I 
felt as if it was the only flower you should 
wear.^^ 

A little shadow rested on Baxter’s face for a 
second only, then he laughed outright. “Now 
I know you belong to my own land, the South. 
That little vein of superstition belongs to a gen- 
uine Southern girl. No, the omen is this, you 
are changing the cups of gold for bridal roses 
brimful of the elixir of love. That is what it 
means. It means that I have no fortune to offer 
you, except in name, and in a boundless love I 
will at once take you away. We will go to my 
home, my only heritage of a fortune that was 
once one of the most princely in the South. For 
over a hundred years my forefathers lived and 
died there. It is a great stone house with twenty 
smooth, white columns around it. It is time- 
eaten, and the ivy has woven a cold, green tap- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


189 


estry over the old gray rock walls. When I was 
there last it was silent and lonely, a home for 
the wild birds and the owls that had nested in 
the vines and on the roofs ; but ah ! there is such 
rest and leisure to be found there. You will be 
happy, Gypta, for you carry in your face the 
glory and color of the South. You are one of its 
sweetest flowers that I shall transplant to its 
own home.’’ 

^‘Go on,” murmured Gypta, with all her soul 
imprisoned in her eyes as she clung to Baxter 
and gazed into the face that almost touched her 
own. ‘‘Tell me more,” she said. 

“It is a land of dreams,” continued Baxter, 
“full of silent passion and beauty all in one. 
The magnolia and orange thickets are flecked 
with sunshine. In the springtime the gold of 
the jassamine seems to turn shadows into light. 
I love that flower, Gypta. Oh, I love it ! When 
I lie in the vault I really believe I will know when 
the springtime comes by its odor. From the mo- 
ment that I looked into your face and heard you 
speak, though we were surrounded by ice, the 
odor and rich beauty of those flowers came to 
me, and it seemed that somewhere I had seen 
your face framed in the tendrils of that vine, 
even before you told me you were born in the 
South.” 

“Yes, I remember,” said Gypta. “That is 
why it pains me to see how they are crushed, and 
I wonder if it is an omen? I wonder if it is?” 
Gypta said sadly. 


190 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^‘Why, Pet, you’re still thinking of that? 
Silly little girl you are. Now, just remember it 
was the pressure of love that bruised them, ’ ’ he 
said, his face warm and illuminated. 

There was silence for a moment. 

^ ^ Gypta, it will be hard I know, but it is due 
Mr. Hamlin that you advise him of your deci- 
sion just as early as possible.” 

‘‘Nothing can be an ordeal now, my Barron; 
but it shall be as you say. ’ ’ 

Placing his hand on Gypta ’s head he looked 
long and earnestly into her eyes. 

“Gypta, before I go I must feel assured of 
this, that you will have strength to bear all that 
must result when we announce our intention to 
marry. You will be censured as a coquette, and 
I will bear the blame of treachery and dis- 
honor. ’ ’ 

His face twitched with a spasm of pain. 
“Again, do you know all you renounce in giving 
your life into my keeping? Emon Hamlin is a 
millionaire banker ; I am a salaried clerk. Now, 
think well before it is too late. After tonight it 
will be too late. To fail me at the last would be 
worse than death to me. Oh! Gypta, you will 
never, never turn back — you are mine, mine now 
and for all eternity ! Are you not mine always ? ’ ’ 
“Yours, all yours, a thousand times, Baxter, 
my own ; good night, my own love. ’ ’ 

When Baxter was alone he was amazed at his 
own happiness ; the only obstacle to supreme joy 
was a little remorseful consciousness which lay 


A SON OF CAROLINA 191 

in ambush and clutched him at times, but this 
soon was exorcised by the memory of Oypta’s 
meeting lips on his, and the pressure of her 
clinging embrace. 

‘‘Ah, I live now,’^ he said, swinging his arms 
and breathing deep; “but for the first time, I 
live!’^ and with head erect and chest thrown 
back he was a picture of magnificent manhood. 


CHAPTEE XVIII 


The rich amber light flooded the sumptuous 
apartments of Emon Hamlin as he entered from 
an absorbing business engagement and threw 
himself down for a few moment ^s rest. 

His valet entered and asked, ^‘Will you dine 
alone, and what orders, sir P ^ 

‘^Yes, alone. Say to Panlas to have Queen 
and Flash in the surrey at 4.50. ThaFs all.’^ 
^^Yes, sir,^’ and the door closed. 

Hamlin sighed with relief as a look of unusual 
softness darkened his eyes. His senses were en- 
thralled as he gazed tenderly at a picture on an 
easel near by, and so arranged that as he rested 
the face would always be before him. 

‘ ‘ Only a few more days, Swetheart, and then ! 
and then ! Oh ! do not curl those pretty lips at 
me. It is so! and I will not have to worship 
your shadow, I will have your living and real 
self. Yes, my gentle wife, my own, my wife. No 
more dull moments over my coffee and cutlets, 
reading my paper alone. I now see you. Sweet I 
opposite to me at breakfast, at dinner, always 
near me. Do you know of what I am thinking f ^ ^ 
and he smiled at the exquisite beauty of the face, 
with the noon light adding to the dead creamy 
whiteness of the skin. She glanced from beneath 
her black lashes with a look of languid mockery. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


193 


but this Hamlin did not see. ‘^Yes, soon I will 
leave these stiff, gloomy rooms, and take you 
home, to our home, that I have worked for and 
longed for. A^es, you will he my own gentle 
wife to smooth away care when I am tired, and 
to nestle in my arms. My sweet child-wife, that 
you are. Ah ! these years of life alone ! No won- 
der that I am cross and selfish,’’ he said, still 
gazing through drowsy lids at the picture which 
held for him the purity and sacredness of the 
Christ Mother. 

Hamlin’s nature of calmness and equipoise 
gauged every object by coldness and modera- 
tion. He had no comprehension of the dark, pas- 
sionate face before him. It was a sweet, gentle 
creature, the woman to grace his home with gen- 
tle dignity. ^ ‘ Yes, my love, ’ ’ he said, ^ ^my spot- 
less little dove ! Oh ! how sweet to believe you 
all my own.” 

At this moment the door opened and his valet 
entered. ‘ ^ A note, sir ; no answer. ’ ’ 

Hamlin smiled as the envelope fluttered to the 
floor as with calm deliberation he unfolded the 
note ; but as his eyes passed over the paper his 
face became tense and white. He read once, 
twice, then with his characteristic method folded 
and replaced it in the envelope. 

When Emon Hamlin had stood in Wall Street 
and the wires ticked the fall in stock which 
meant to him the loss of half a million dollars 
he did not betray even by a twitch of a muscle 
his misfortune. Always self-poised and cool- 


194 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


brained he was never known to betray emotion 
or undue excitement, so when his valet saw the 
pallid look on his face, and his lips pressed dose, 
he could not divine the nature of the blow he had 
received. 

Jason.’’ 

‘‘Yes, sir.” 

‘ ‘ I will have my surrey at once. ’ ’ 

“Yes, sir.” 

“I will go and find the meaning of this, ’’Ham- 
lin said to himself. 

The idea was a tangible horror to him and a 
torpor dulled his brain. 

“What can it mean?” he exclaimed again and 
again. He had been strong in his sense of secur- 
ity from the moment Gypta promised to become 
his wife; his mind was at rest, for doubt was 
not a word in. his lexicon. Gypta ’s variable 
moods had never puzzled him. He saw her as he 
believed her to be, submissive, sweet, and wom- 
anly. The barbaric in her nature had never been 
revealed to him. As he rang the bell at the Lev- 
ering home an hour later it was with the thought 
that there was a misunderstanding that soon 
would be made right. When, however, Gypta ’s 
lips confirmed what the note had conveyed, he 
was wounded, indignant, and humiliated. 

‘ ‘ God grant that you may never suffer the an- 
guish you have this day caused me to feel. God 
forgive you, Gypta Levering, for the ruin you 
have brought upon my life. Had you been my 
most vindictive foe, and desired an exquisite re- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


195 


venge, you could not more effectually have ac- 
complished your purpose/’ 

‘‘But what more can I say?” he continued. 
“Words are useless — you say your decision is 
final. Again I ask you, Gypta, was this note 
written free from all influence? Is it your de- 
sire that I release you ? Answer me upon your 
honor as the true woman IVe believed you 
to be.” 

Gypta did not raise her eyes. For a moment 
she was silent. Then an expression of hope 
flickered over Hamlin’s face. 

“Ah, then,” said he, “you were moved by 
some influence. You love me still, Gypta. Only 
say you love me, and all the rest will be easy. 
What is it, my love? Tell me why you wrote 
this cruel note, ’ ’ and Hamlin drew a chair near 
Gypta and placed his hand gently on her shoul 
der. 

As if in pain she arose, and pressing her 
hands to her eyes suddenly threw back her head 
until each clustering curl above her brow quiv- 
ered. 

“Oh! No! No!” she cried aloud, “I do not 
love you, I can not love you. No influence moved 
me to write that note, save the desire to be free 
from a yoke that galls me more each day. Oh ! 
Mr. Hamlin, I never for an instant thought of 
deceiving you, never ! never ! It was my inten- 
tion to marry you and be a true, faithful wife ; 
but I didn’t know the meaning of love. I had 
never loved before, and, now since I know the 


196 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


full meaning, it maddens me to feel that I am 
pledged to you when I love another/’ 

‘ ‘ Great God ! ’ ’ cried Hamlin, his face chang- 
ing from white to crimson. ‘‘You confess that 
you love another man! What do you mean? 
Speak ! ’ ’ 

“Yes, I love another with all the passion of my 
soul,” said Gypta, as the dead creamy white- 
ness of her face flushed into a soft carnation, and 
her whole being seemed to palpitate and thrill 
at the confession of a love that she experienced 
with all the fire and passion and wild abandon 
of her tropical Southern nature. ‘ ‘ Oh, Mr. Ham- 
lin, I love him, ’ ’ she murmured as a tender misty 
light softened the flashing glory of her eyes. 
AVith an imperious gesture she threw herself on 
a divan and sank deep among the Persian silk 
pillows. Her utter indifference to his suffer- 
ing exasperated Hamlin, and for a moment he 
felt an impulse to spring at the soft, luxurious 
creature and crush her white throat between his 
long, strong hands, and tear and mangle her 
beauty as he would a deadly Scalopendra that 
was gnawing his vitals away. 

“Fiend! or woman, whichever you are!” he 
almost hissed the words, “why have you thus 
played me false? Why have you, through the dan- 
gerous power of your witchery, brought me to 
the very portals of paradise, but to hurl me into 
the darkness of perdition? Ah! why has the 
hand that I loved next to the spirit hand of my 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


197 


angel mother been the one to lead me from 
heaven to hell ! Oh, why is it so f Tell me ! ’ ’ 

These words seemed to arouse Gypta, and pity 
for the first time moved her. 

‘ ^ Mr. Hamlin, ^ ’ she cried with genuine regret 
in her voice, ^^do not blame me so. You do not 
know how it cuts my heart when I realize that I 
have caused you such suffering. You have ever 
been so patient, so kind, giving so much and ask- 
ing little. I, who should have brought joy to 
your life, have brought you but loss and sorrow. 
Oh ! forgive me, forgive me ! ^ ^ and Gypta reached 
out both hands, and raised her eyes to the hag- 
gard face of Emon Hamlin as the suppliant sin- 
ner might plead to a saint. 

Hamlin stood immovable, with downcast eyes 
and lips hard and fixed. His hands were clasped 
before him and he gave no heed to the beautiful 
pleading eyes that searched in his face for one 
ray of forgiveness. 

‘ ^ Forgive me ! ^ ’ she cried, her voice breaking 
into a plaintive quiver, as that of a child who is 
ready to sob before an unrelenting parent. 

He looked at her pleading face while she was 
speaking, then his glance dropped to the floor 
and he stood evidently trying to think the matter 
over to a logical conclusion, but he made no re- 
ply. 

‘‘You are cruel to me,^^ she cried; “you will 
not pardon me though I^m guided by the high- 


198 


A SON OF CAEOLINA 


est, purest motives. I want to be bonest and 
do what is right. ^ ’ 

These words caused Hamlin to look np, and 
raising his eyebrows derisively he sneered, and 
laughed a little bitter laugh, that grated on Gyp- 
ta far more than curses would have done. 

^ ‘ Listen to me, Mr. Hamlin, I must be heard ! ’ ^ 
and in a moment the tearful, repentant voice 
was firm and commanding, and the sorrowful 
face was proud and determined. 

‘ ‘ I hear you, ^ ’ said he coldly and scornfully. 

You are a wise and just man. Now, tell me, 
would it have been better for me to go to the 
altar with you, and in the Almighty ^s presence 
take upon me the vows that registered falsehood, 
or now to tell you ere it is too late I Would you 
have me sit at your hearthstone and receive the 
benefits of your generosity and your love when 
every throb of my heart would be yearning for 
another ? ^ ^ 

“You were quite late in making that consider- 
ate discovery, said Hamlin bitterly. “You 
have not only broken my heart and leveled my 
pride, but you have destroyed my faith and con- 
fidence in all your sex. If you, Gypta, could play 
me false, how can I trust any woman on God’s 
earth? No, and I never shall. Ah ! you have so 
crushed all my aspirations and blighted my 
hopes, I feel like a poor whipped animal, that 
would hide my bleeding wounds. I wish I could 
go where no one would pity me and point at me 


A SON OF CAROLINA 199 

as a victim of your coquetry, but this I can- 
not do.’’ 

‘^Will you give me the name of the man you 
love ? ’ ’ 

With fearless candor Gypta looked Hamlin 
full in the face. ^ Ht is Mr. Baxter, Barron Bax- 
ter, whom you know. ’ ’ 

‘‘No! No!” cried Hamlin, springing to his 
feet. “I will not believe that — he whom I 
trusted and believed to be a gentleman and a 
friend, a man bearing a name old in the annals 
of a State noted for its honorable and stainless 
men. I will not believe that he will betray any 
trust ; that he, under the protection of my confi- 
dence, would creep into your presence wearing 
the mask of a gentleman when in reality he was 
a coward and a betrayer, a man unworthy of 
the love of any woman. ’ ’ 

“Silence, sir!” shrieked Gypta, with eyes 
ablaze and face quivering with indignant fren- 
zy. ‘ ‘ The South has no braver, truer, more chiv- 
alric representative than the man you so basely 
malign, Barron Baxter, my husband soon to be.” 

He gathered his cane and hat. “I have noth- 
ing more to say. Good-day, Miss Levering.” 

She saw his expression change from that of 
blind pain to sneering contempt. A moment 
later he passed out into the street. 

She stood for a while, awed and silent, when 
suddenly she raised her arms in a delirium of 
gratitude at her release. 

‘ ‘ Free ! Free ! ’ ’ she cried. ‘ ‘ Love has broken 


200 A SON OF CAROLINA 

my cliains! Oli, Barron, Barron, I am free to 
be yours ! ’ ’ 

In that one hour of agony Emon Hamlin had 
aged twenty years. The firm, strong face was 
pallid and drawn, and a dazed, dull look was in 
his eyes. He entered his carriage and drew 
down the blinds as if seeking refuge from an im- 
pending storm, for he would have no one see 
what he suffered. As he lay back on the cush- 
ions he felt like a man with the sentence of death 
upon him, and could see naught but eternal 
blackness beyond. Yet as his luxurious coach 
rolled by many eyes watched in envy. The grimy- 
handed man of toil looked up and muttered with 
discontent, and the hoary-headed rag-picker, as 
he tottered to give way to the passing wheels, 
and gazed at the glittering equipage, wondered 
if when he gained access to the Golden City 
through the gates of Death he would be happy 
as the owner of those prancing steeds and shin- 
ing coach. Alas ! how little did he know that the 
man who sat within had envied him and would 
have exchanged his blighted aching heart and 
his gilded life with the meanest, lowliest scav- 
enger who found joy in his wealth of worm-eaten 
bones and tattered rags, and whose heart could 
grow glad and who could fall asleep on the pave- 
ment of stone and sleep and sweetly dream, 
while he, on his bed of eiderdown and linen, 
would toss and roll until the morning sunbeams 
mocked him with their golden fingers. 


CHAPTEE XIX 


‘ AVel], it is over with him/^ Gypta said, with 
a sense of relief; ‘‘bnt now my courage is need- 
ed. ’ ^ She drew herself up, paused a moment at 
Mrs. Levering ’s sitting-room door, then en- 
tered. 

^^Come in, love; Mr. Hamlin ^s visit was un- 
usually short. ’ ^ There was an indefinable dread 
in her voice which she made an effort to conceal. 

^ ‘ Gypta looked at her in silence, biting her in- 
ner lips, then she went up to her mother, and 
putting her hands on her shoulder said, in a 
voice dropped to its lowest tone, ^ ^ Mamma dear, 
it is all over with Mr. Hamlin. I have told him 
so. Now, it is useless to get angry and ex- 
cited. ’ ’ 

^^What is it you say!^’ Mrs. Levering sprang 
up with a fierce terror in her face. ‘‘What do 
you say ? ’ ’ 

“IVe told you, mamma, my engagement to 
Mr. Hamlin is broken. I am now free to marry 
Barron Baxter.’^ 

“Oh! has it come to this I Mrs. Levering 
screamed. “I knew it, I felt it; fool I was not 
to have ordered that rebel from my home the 
first time he called. Ah! but I did believe he 
was a gentleman. 

“Gypta, I would rather you had perished in 


202 


A SON OF CAEOLINA 


that lake, and been dragged from it frozen and 
stiff, than that he should have saved you to bring 
ruin and dishonor upon this house. I now com- 
mand you to recall Emon Hamlin before it is too 
late, for I swear you shall never become the wife 
of Baxter. 

‘ ‘ Send for Hamlin, I say. Tell him you were 
jesting when you sent him away; say that you 
were feverish, and it was the language of deliri- 
um that banished him. Just say anything. So 
you make him come back. I command you ! Be 
in haste, girl, call him back!’’ She sprang for- 
ward, her infuriated face crimson, with the blood 
surging in her temples that stood out like whip- 
cords across her brows. The torrent of her 
words, her wild eyes, her trembling hands had 
no power to move. 

Gypta sat quite motionless. Her face was 
firm. There were no contending emotions to 
break the look of determination on her face ; no 
struggle between duty and love. Her unutter- 
able love for Baxter made everything else in 
comparison seem unimportant. 

Unmoved, she watched her mother’s rage and 
only pitied her. At last she stood and, turning, 
said in slow, measured tones, ‘ ‘ Mother, listen to 
me. I declare to you that if the power of evil 
in bodily shape stood above me, with flaming 
sword, and commanded me to recall Emon Ham- 
lin and give up Barron Baxter, I would defy 
him and his imps and his threats. No ! mother, 
I shall marry Barron; and oh! I love him! I 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


203 


love him the hard, fixed expression of her face 
melted into tenderness which irritated Mrs. Lev- 
ering far more than a torrent of rage would have 
done. 

‘‘You shall never marry Barron Baxter, that 
I swear ! ^ ’ 

“There is no earthly power can separate us,’’ 
Gypta said calmly. “Nothing can come between 
us now or in eternity. ’ 

“Ah! you think not? Suppose I tell you a 
brief little sentence of four words would as ef- 
fectually part you as if you had never Imown 
each other. I could utter those words now and 
you would quail before me like yonder spaniel 
when lashed by the hand of its master. I could, 
by a word, cause Barron Baxter to curse the 
day he ever met you, and to turn from you as 
he would from one who, is leprous. He would no 
more take you to his bosom as his wife than he 
would fondle a thing accursed. ’ ’ 

With these words Mrs. Levering folded her 
arms and watched the effect, just as the artist 
who plunged a knife into the heart of his slave 
that he might study a dying groan. 

Had a dagger entered the breast of the girl 
who a moment before stood so defiant and cour- 
ageous in her security, it could not have brought 
a deadlier pallor to her face or called forth a 
more agonizing moan. She tried to speak, but 
her throat was parched and dry. She stared at 
her mother in an effort to divine what she meant, 
but no word could she utter. It was like the 


204 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


vague revelation of a mystery she had believed 
clung to her life, but had not even in the most 
indistinct way imagined what it was. 

Falling at the feet of Mrs. Levering, she cried 
in a voice that would have wrung pity from a 
demon’s heart, ‘‘Oh! tell me, tell me, what do 
you mean? You have said that I was poor and 
alone, but that means no disgrace before such 
love as Barron’s. What is the curse upon me? 
Tell me. Have mercy ! Oh, tell me ! ” 

“Giypta,” calmly replied Mrs. Levering, “it 
pains me to see you suffer so. Eise up and say 
you will marry Hamlin ; that you will save your- 
self and save those who love you. Eecall Emon 
Hamlin and he the wife of a noble, princely man. 
Be a queen, and not a suppliant. Eise, my child, 
that I may spare you. I have shielded you all 
these years, and will protect you now if you will 
only let me. Come, Gypta, come, I cannot see 
you at my feet, my proud, my beautiful girl. 
Eise and recall the man who will prove a shield 
to you from all past or present misfortune. Be- 
hind the bulwark of his name and fortune you 
will be secure. Ah ! let me save you, ’ ’ and her 
voice became soft and more tender. 

With a mute, appealing look, Gypta stared 
into her mother’s face. 

“I will rise, she said with an effort, “but only 
to become the wife of Barron Baxter.” 

“That you will never be, I have sworn it!” 
repeated Mrs. Levering with emphasis, and the 
look in her eyes implied rule or ruin. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


205 


‘‘That you cannot prevent/’ exclaimed Gyp- 
ta, standing erect with renewed strength. “You 
would dissuade me from my purpose by mysteri- 
ous threats ; you would frighten me as one would 
scare a child with a painted devil, or a dry gourd 
in which round eyes and a gaping mouth had 
been cut,” and she laughed sneer ingly. 

“Say what you will to Barron Baxter, he will 
make me his wife, and that very soon,” and with 
a defiant toss of her head she gazed at Mrs. Lev- 
ering. 

‘ ‘ Then you doubt me and defy me I ” 

“I do,” Gypta said with emphasis. 

‘ ‘ Girl, you know not what you do. Act before 
it is too late. I do not want to deal this blow. 
One stroke, and all your regal arrogance, your 
power of beauty, your defiant and self-poised 
pride will fall low. One sentence and you would 
crawl on your hands and knees to plead to Emon 
Hamlin to make you his wife. Marry Hamlin, 
and discard Baxter, and I swear that I will avert 
a doom that will be a million times worse than 
death to you.” 

“Then I must bear it, do your worst!” and 
Gypta raised her head with determination, and a 
face of frank, fearless beauty, as her eyes opened 
wide in questioning wonder. 

“My child ! spare me ! For God’s sake, spare 
me ! and spare yourself. Keep your honor bright 
and keep your word to Hamlin. Don ’t, I pray, 
trifle with me. Why will you wrench from me a 
secret which bears upon your eternal destiny 1 ’ ’ 


206 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


A vague terror seized Gypta. 

God! what does the woman meanT^ 
‘‘Slay me if you must,^’ Gypta repeated, 
“nothing can force me into a marriage which to 
you means redemption from poverty, with ease 
and luxury, and to me an exchange from heaven 
that I have gained, to perdition. No, all you can 
do will not effect your purpose.^’ 

“You think not, do you? Well, suppose we 
use the test. Very w^ell, very well, such lack of 
gratitude as you show deserves to suffer, and 
a pitiless triumph was in her voice. “You de- 
serve to suffer, and I do not care to spare you 
now, ’ ’ she repeated. 

“Very well,^’ and Mrs. Levering moved slow- 
ly and evenly across the room. Taking from her 
chain a key, she unlocked a desk, and touching a 
secret drawer she drew from it a sealed package. 
Deliberately she broke the slender cord around 
it and brushed away the wax. From it she took 
a little Bible and walked hacli to Gypta, who had 
mutely watched her every movement. 

“ Gypta, she said in the same even voice, 
“this little Bible is yours. Your mother, when 
dying, gave it to me, with the request that one 
day I would give it to you, so that you would 
never forget who and what you are, and to whom 
you owe allegiance. I have never deemed it nec- 
essary until now. Examine that page, and be- 
fore it is too late, recall the man who can rescue 
you from your infamy. If you still refuse, then 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


207 


this Bible goes to Barron Baxter, and he will 
read the lines to which I now point/’ 

‘‘Oblivions of the dark threats that followed 
the first words of Mrs. Levering, Gypta seemed 
only to hear that the little book had been left by 
her mother, that mother whom she had often 
yearned for and dreamed of. To her she had 
been a pure spirit crowned with lilies and aflame 
with light. She had been a sacred, beautiful 
mystery, but always clothed in a glorious purity, 
whose rays of light and love reached from the 
vault of heaven down into her own little mortal 
life. From the day she saw the silver-winged 
gulls dart in and out of the billows of the sea, 
and told the captain of the vessel that they were 
messages from her mother, from that day she 
was never permitted to ask questions about her 
mother ; yet in her bosom was enshrined a sweet 
ideal, and oft from her sleep she would awake 
with the name of “mamma” on her lips. Now, 
for the first time in all her life, she was given 
something tangible from that spirit mother. 

Reaching out her hand she yearningly cried, 
“ Oh ! give it to me. Why have you kept it so 
long?” and she caught the Bible in her clasped 
hands and pressed it close to her cheeks, her lips 
and her bosom. 

“Oh! my own mother! My real, true angel 
mother ! They have kept your sweet little mes- 
senger from me so long.” 

As a mother might fondle the dead body of 
her babe, so Gypta fondled and kissed the inani- 


208 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


mate book, caressing it and talking to it. Mrs. 
Levering stood and looked on. In her eyes 
gleamed a strange blending of pity and resolve. 

A sweet calm was over Oypta^s face, all the re- 
sentment and passion had left, and her great 
brown eyes were brimming with tears. She 
seemed to forget all, save that she held in her 
hand something that her mother had touched, 
had loved, and had sent her. 

She grew gentle and tender, and did not even 
remember for the time her absorbing love for 
Baxter. She cared not to open the book, but 
falling on her knees pressed it to her closed eyes 
as in prayer. 

Mrs. Levering looked on. Even her hard 
heart was softened, and for a second her eyes 
were moist. ‘^Oh! I am a fiend, she thought, 
^^but devils’ fear is worse than devils’ work well 
done. To turn back would be cowardice, and 
nothing yet accomplished. I must steel my 
courage. Yes, ’twere better that she suffer for 
a petty passion than that we all feel the pangs 
and disgrace of cursed poverty. ’ ’ 

^^Gypta,” she exclaimed, ‘^you don’t know 
what it is you fondle!” and snatching the book 
she opened it and pointed slowly to the writing 
on the page, which with loud, shrill, biting ac- 
cent, she read ; 

''Gypta, 

Child of Ashley Prescott by his slave Nanny.^^ 

See ! read it for yourself,” and she thrust the 
book in the face of Gypta, who had not risen. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


209 


‘ ‘ See ! you are nameless, simply ^ Nanny’s child, ’ 
and the daughter of lust and bondage. In your 
veins run riot the bluest blood of the patrician 
and the darkest blood of the slave. 

^‘Did I lie when I told you that you were 
branded and accursed? You little dreamed 
whose child you were, did you ? Rise, now, send 
for Hamlin; he can save you — he will place a 
fortune and an honorable name at your feet; 
and he will never know whose child you are. ’ ’ 

Gypta did not heed her words, but gazed with 
a look of blank despair at the lines in the book 
to which Mrs. Levering had pointed. Suddenly 
her eyes became glazed, her lips parted, and 
with a wild wail of anguish her head bowed for- 
ward and she fell heavily upon the floor. 


CHAPTEB XX 


When Gypta opened her eyes again the sun of 
another day had risen, and gilded ladders of 
sunbeams were thrown through the lattice; yet 
the glory of the morning failed to warm her 
cliilled and aching heart. She stirred languidly 
and was wholly unable to collect her thoughts. 
She looked aromid her room as if to fasten sen- 
sation and recollection to something she could 
not grasp. With the preternatural strength 
which is begotten of a ghastly terror she sat up, 
and pressing her hands to her head a shiver 
passed over her ; she was smitten with a full re^ 
membrance of what had passed. 

^ ‘ Zeta, ’ ’ she called, ‘ ‘ are you here 1 ^ 

^‘I’m here, ma’am, where I’ve been every mo- 
ment since you fell, ’ ’ the maid said, bending over 
her mistress with appealing pain in her face. 

Thank God, Mademoiselle speaks, and what 
will she have ? ’ ’ 

‘‘Has a physician been here?” 

“He has, ma’am.” 

“What did he say?” 

“He calls again to-day.” 

“Zeta, did he say I was dangerously ill, or 
what did he say? Tell me all he said.” 

“He said Mademoiselle had some very bad 
shock, and Madam told him it was because of 


A SON OF CAROLINA 211 

your worry about preparations for your mar- 
riage.’^ 

‘^That was all!” 

‘^It was, ma’am.” 

^ ‘ Zeta, I wish to test my strength, ’ ’ said Gyp- 
ta, as with a swift motion she stepped from the 
bed and paced the floor several times, then 
seated herself wearily as the door opened, and 
Mr. Levering entered, followed by Dr. Royal, 
the family physician, who approached her with 
fatherly kindness and solicitude. 

But without a word, and seemingly uncon- 
scious of the presence of any one, she sat like a 
frozen figure with clasped hands, her snowy 
drapery drawn close about her. 

‘ ^ Tell me, my daughter, trust me, ’ ’ said he. 
^^What is your trouble! For surely there is 
some heav^^ weight on your mind,” and taking 
her hands he stroked them with gentle firmness. 

She looked up with an expression of pleading 
pathos, and held out her arm to the physician. 

‘‘Dear Doctor,” she whispered, “come quick 
with your keen blade and lance open these veins 
and let out from my arteries the drops of blood 
that separate me from my love. ’ ’ 

“My God! She is mad! My child is mad! 
Mrs. Levering said to the Doctor, as a spasm of 
pain contracted her face. 

“No, not so!” cried Gypta, looking sternly at 
Mrs. Levering. “Give me my Bible!” she 
screamed. “ It is mine, I command you to give 


212 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


me the book my mother — aye, still, — she is my 
mother — left me.’’ 

^^Not now, my child, be patient.” 

command yon!” screamed Gypta, rising, 
with a dangerous light in her eyes. 

Mrs. Levering quailed before the infuriated 
gaze of Gypta. 

^ ‘ Give me my Bible ! ’ ’ she repeated. 

Madam,” said the physician, who supposed 
that his patient’s words were the effect of deliri- 
um, ‘‘your presence seems to excite her. Leave 
her at once. She must have perfect quiet.” A 
moment later he followed Mrs. Levering from 
the room. 


CHAPTEB XXI 


The following day Baxter sat in his room, the 
prey to conflicting emotions. The premonition 
of an impending evil weighed upon him so that 
he could not coerce his thoughts. 

Having called at the Eoy Levering home he 
learned of Gypta^s illness, and on the eve of his 
departure from the house Mrs. Levering ap- 
peared in the hall and requested his presence in 
her private library. She then informed him that 
during the day he would receive a conununica- 
tion in reference to a matter of vital interest to 
him. She spoke in a voice whose every inflec- 
tion carried a mysterious suggestion. 

‘‘First, Mr. Baxter, she said, “in giving you 
this knowledge will you swear that it will never 
he divulged! Act on it as your wisdom and 
pride will certainly suggest; but do not, I be- 
seech you, reveal it to curse others. I ’ve saved 
you, thank God, and forever remain silent. 

Baxter stared at her with surprise and impa- 
tience. 

In the instant of Barron’s hesitation Mrs. 
Levering said, “In receiving this communica- 
tion, do you swear you will accede to what I 
ask?” 

“Madame, I am a gentleman; your request 
and my acquiescence seal it as a sacred bond.” 


214 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


The reply was calm but positive. 

Very well, Mr. Baxter, I bid you good-day. 

Before he could speak, with icy courtesy she 
parted the curtains at her back and disappeared. 

‘‘Madame,’’ he cried, “I have not said on 
what conditions I make this oath of conceal- 
ment. Will you return and permit me one 
word?” 

“No, sir, for my mistress bade me show you 
to your carriage, ’ ’ said the servant, opening the 
door. 

“Ah! very well,” Baxter thought, “I can re- 
turn her communication unsealed until she 
agrees to certain conditions. ’ ’ He felt an invin- 
cible reluctance to receive as secret that which 
he must withhold from Gypta. It was not until 
on entering his room, lighting a Havana, and 
making himself comfortable in his favorite arm- 
chair that the force and mystery of Mrs. Lever- 
ing ’s strange words fell upon him. 

“Does the woman consider me a fool!” he 
asked with a yawn. “I see through it all. She 
would drive me from my purpose of marrying 
Gypta, thereby leaving the way clear for Ham- 
lin and his millions. How little she knows us ! 
Poor ignorant woman !” With these reflections 
he lazily watched a wreath of smoke curl and un- 
curl high above his head. 

At that moment his valet entered and handed 
him a sealed envelope, bearing in a bold, thin 
hand his address ; at the same time placing a 


A SON OP CAROLINA 215 

small package on the table beside him, which 
Baxter did not at the time notice. 

Turning the envelope he looked at it earnestly. 

‘‘Yes, this holds her secret. Ah! I se her lit- 
tle game. I’ll disappoint her.” And he wrote 
on the back, ‘ Returned with thanks, ’ and tossed 
the letter on the table and sank back into the 
depths of his chair. 

^‘Now, doubtless she will state that Gypta is 
penniless ! That, to many, is the greatest stig- 
ma that can blast a woman’s reputation. Ah! 
how little she knows me, Barron Baxter. Give 
me an unsullied name and I ask no more. I’d 
rather take to the home of my fathers a woman 
with the stainless blood of the Southern patri- 
cian in her veins than to introduce there the 
daughter of a millionaire pork packer, or the 
heiress of a merchant king, who started on the 
road of fortune with the inevitable store of 
pinch-back jewelry and cotton laces, with veins 
full of plebeian blood. 

“No, though Gypta should stand in a garment 
of crocus cloth, I would carry her to Magnolia 
Hall and make her mistress of the grand old 
place, where for centuries the bluest blood has 
held sway, and no disgrace has fallen on the 
name of Baxter. I can unlock the vault that 
holds the dust of my forefathers, and, hand in 
hand with Gypta, stand in the presence of the 
dead, fearing no condemning spirit to rise and 
say, ‘ Of what people have you brought a wife to 
mock the pride of your ancestors?’ Ah, no, 


216 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Madam Levering, Poverty will never rise as a 
barrier between me and the woman I love. You 
wish to sell Gypta to the highest bidder. Love 
and honor bid highest this time and I am the 
purchaser. ’ ’ 

Just then for the first time he noticed the 
package. Supposing it was a piece of merchan- 
dise or a borrowed book one of his friends had 
returned, he carefully broke the cord and the 
worn little Bible was disclosed. The binding 
was plain and faded and the clasp was tar- 
nished. 

^‘Odd little book!^^ Baxter said, turning the 
leaves. ‘ ‘ Ton my word it is, and it smells as 
musty as a mummy. ^ ^ 

‘ ‘ Cato, ’ ^ he called, but his valet did not hear. 

With strange curiosity he turned the pages, 
when suddenly his eyes rested on the words, 
written in irregular but plain letters : 

Gypta, 

Child of Ashley Prescott hy his slave Nanny.’’ 

‘ ^ Great God ! What does this mean ! ’ ’ 

In a moment his face was ashen. 

His brow became damp and drops oozed from 
every pore of his skin like the dew that gathers 
on the brow and cheeks of a dying man. 

He clutched the book in his hand as he read 
again and again the words that in a moment had 
destroyed, as a sudden bolt from heaven, all of 
life and joy and hope. Like the grip that a 
drowning man holds to an object by which he is 


A SON OF CAROLINA 217 

rescued, Baxter clutched the little time-worn 
Bible. 

‘‘Ah! this is what she meant; but it is a lie! 
he exclaimed, examining again and again the 
writing and the leaves ; turning them over many 
times, hoping in some way to prove it a forgery. 
But from the stained leaves he inhaled the 
breath of time with a sickening shudder, and the 
more he examined the book, the more he was 
forced to realize the genuineness of the inscrip- 
tion. 

With dulled, stupefied agony he gazed at the 
page on which was written the death-warrant 
to his hopes and happiness. His fingers relaxed, 
the book dropped to the fioor. With a groan his 
head fell heavily upon the table. 

In a moment the hideous sentence of universal 
corruption seemed written over the whole earth. 
Cry as he would to Fate in his agony, he could 
see no escape from the awful destiny should this 
be true. A sudden sense of immeasurable loss 
fell upon him, for in one second he realized that 
the woman whom he loved as he had never be- 
fore loved any human creature, was as dead to 
him as if she were a tenant of the catacombs of 
Rome — dead, yet living. 

Through his burning lids he saw her in the 
rich glory of her womanhood. He could not dis- 
pel this vision. He beheld her standing in the 
effulgent light, with cheeks and bosom as smooth 
and white as ivory. Suddenly a hand thrust a 
knife through her breast, and a shadow fell upon 


218 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


her, turning all her loveliness into darkness. A 
veil like the mist from a miasmic marsh seemed 
to envelope her ; and as the creamy-hearted lily 
withers and dies at the touch of the pestilential 
breath, so he saw the woman he worshiped fall 
beneath a blight a million times worse than the 
blight of death. Innocent and yet crucified for 
the sins of her people. 

^ ‘ Oh ! Gypta, I see you now with your caress- 
ing lips, and my golden blossoms crushed at your 
throat, (lypta, Gypta ! ^ ’ he cried aloud, but his 
voice echoed hack on the stillness. 

Suddenly there came into his heart a hatred 
for the man who had brought into life this beau- 
tiful being. The name of Ashley Prescott, her 
father, he had heard from boyhood. He was his 
father’s own friend. He knew where his body 
rested in the kingly vault, with a proud name em- 
blazoned on it in letters of bronze. An impulse 
moved him to rush to that tomb and tear oft* the 
eulogy, and the name, and in eternal letters to 
brand on the stone Cursed and corrupt! 
Cursed be his name forever !” 

^ ‘ Cursed be the name of Prescott ! ” he cried. 
‘‘Worse than the sin of Cain blackens your soul ! 
Cursed, I say, be they who leave the trail of their 
sensuality, to wind its endless length through 
generations yet unborn. The hand of Cain, 
scarlet and reeking with the life-blood of his 
brother, is a glorious picture in comparison with 
this dragon of lust! One throws its victim in 
the silence of the grave, the other is endless. 


A SON OF CAEOLINA 


219 


Cursed, I cry, and yet I am powerless ! I can- 
not struggle with the ghastly crime. I cannot 
gaze in the sightless sockets of the dead man 
under the tomb and brand him. I cannot put a 
bullet in the heart that is but a lump of defiled 
clay! I cannot take arms against a handful of 
mouldered bones ! Ah ! his dust defies me ! He 
is dead, while the trail of the serpent stains and 
blasts the life of a beautiful innocent thing, and 
coils about her, an irrevocable, inevitable des- 
tiny, making her an alien and nameless ; and yet 
I cannot avenge her. Orestes tracked by dread 
and hideous shapes to his doom is to be envied 
in comparison to this child of bondage who must 
eternally be followed by the curse. And yet, — 
and yet, — I cannot save her. ^ ’ 

‘‘Mauster, are you sick, sar? Please, Maus 
Barron, what ails you, sar?^^ Cato asked, thor- 
oughly alarmed on entering the room and find- 
ing his master with pallid face and muttering in 
cin excited, incoherent way. 

‘^No, no, Cato,^’ replied Baxter, looking up 
dully, with a stupid, vacant stare. 

‘‘You suffer. Mars Barron 
“No,’’ replied Barron, “I wish to be alone. 
First give me a glass of wine, and do not dis- 
turb me again. Do you understand I ’ ’ 

“Yes, sar.” The man placed a glass and a 
decanter beside Baxter and dimly lighted the 
gas before leaving the room. 

The gloom deepened in his chamber. The twi- 
light was without and the yellow gleam of the 


220 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


dim light within weirdly touched every object. 
Still he sat as the hours passed, yet to Baxter it 
seemed a year had died in those hours that had 
charred his heart to cinders. He seemed to have 
suddenly grown old and weary with a life of tor- 
turing pain. The little Bible, wide open on the 
floor, looked up as if mocking his grief. The let- 
ter, with its heav^^ seal unbroken, lay upon the 
table. He would not read it. He had read 
enough, and what pained him most, he knew it 
was no forgery — no lie. It was the terrible 
truth. His head rested upon a pillow of plush 
that Gypta’s own fingers had wrought him. It 
was full of perfume and as soft as her own 
breast. 

He closed his eyes and tried to exorcise the 
thoughts that had maddened him, but his brain 
seemed to wheel and leap, and rush with rage, 
resentment, and misery. He ground Ms teeth, 
clutched his hands, and strove with all the power 
of his will to remain still. He felt that he must 
have revenge some way, some how. He was like 
a chained man who is forced to watch his wife 
and children outraged and tortured, and is pow- 
erless to help them. 

^‘Mauster, did you ring, sar! You going to 
stay thar all night! It^s mighty late, Mans Bar- 
ron.’’ 

^ Hs it so late, Cato ! Why, yes it is, ’ ’ Barron 
said, looking at the clock. ‘‘Come and arrange 
my pillows. I’ll rest here awhile longer. I’ll 
ring when I wish you.” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


221 


Cato looked anxiously as he obeyed his master. 
‘ ‘ Mans Barron. ’ ^ 

‘‘What is it, CatoT^ 

“You sho’ you ain^t sick, sarT’ 

“I’m not sick, Cato. You may go ; I ’m drowsy 
and wish to rest. ’ ’ 

In a short while his heated brain and nerves 
that like fired wires had whipped every fibre of 
his being into a frenzy, relaxed and he fell 
asleep. 


CHAPTER XXII 


At the same time, in a distant part of the city, 
Gypta Levering was suffering the throes of an- 
guish as poignant as his own, yet she was not 
hopeless, even though she had discovered that 
her Bible was in the possession of Barron, and 
the secret of her debased birth was known to 
him. 

Leave me, Zeta,^^ she said, wish to re- 
main alone tonight. Yes, go. I’m better now. 
Let no one enter unless I call. This is my com- 
mand. ’ ’ 

‘Yes, ma’am,” replied the maid, as she reluc- 
tantly left the room, softly closing the door after 
her. 

“Mademoiselle looks wild and strange,” 
thought the girl. ‘ ‘ I will remain near by in case 
I am needed, ’ ’ and she crouched near the door 
in the adjoining room, so as to hear even the 
faintest footfall. But soon vigilance was con- 
quered by weariness, and she was sound asleep. 

Gypta, once alone, abandoned herself to her 
grief. She paced the floor in a frenzy. 

‘ Mad ! Mad ! I verily believe I am mad ! ’ ’ she 
screamed aloud. “Oh, why did she not kill me 
at once, rather than to force upon me this living 
torture?” 

‘ ‘ Oh ! my mother, why did you leave me here ! 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


223 


Why did you not let me die with you and be 
buried in my own land, the home of my people, 
rather than leave me to live a gilded false life 
and find, alas! that I am the child of sin and 
bondage. In God’s sight, whose child am I, 
whose child!” 

‘‘Oh! my mother,” she cried, falling on her 
knees, “though thou wert a bondswoman, God 
may hear thee, ask his pity upon me. Ask Christ 
and the Virgin to have mercy upon thy nameless 
babe, who was left in the cabin in the land of the 
laurel and the pine. Christ and Holy Mary, hear 
my prayer ! ’ ’ 

For a moment Gypta was on her knees with 
eyes raised in supplication. Then a calm seemed 
to steal over her and she arose. 

“I will go to Barron Baxter this very night,” 
she said. “I will not remain beneath this roof 
another hour. I have no right here, for I am 
nameless. I am simply Nanny’s child, — only an 
outcast, — a waif. My God! Suppose he too 
casts me off! Will he spurn me as a thing ac- 
cursed. No ! No ! He loves me, and I will go 
to him. I will know my fate this very hour. I 
will wear my bridal robes, for he will marry me 
this very night. ’ ’ 

She seemed to regain her buoyant vigor as she 
began to dress herself with care and delibera- 
tion. Standing before a large mirror, she put 
on a snow white robe, whose long Grecian folds 
clung around her ivory limbs as if woven of 
azalia blooms, so fragile and filmy was it. She 


224 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


studied the effect of each fold, and as she saw 
herself reflected, a vision of resplendant beauty, 
even in her agony, she was glad and proud. 

must wear his flowers,’’ she said, taking 
from a vase a long tendril of withered jassa- 
mine, the last that Baxter had sent her. Placing 
it carefully on her bosom, she thrust a jewel pin 
through the curling brown stems. 

^‘He loves to see me wear them,” she said, 
pressing them closer to her pulsing breast. 

^ ‘ I am ready to go, ’ ’ she murmured, speaking 
to her image in the glass. For a moment her 
head drooped low, and she was buried in deep 
thought. Looking around stealthily she walked 
to a cabinet, took from it a dagger whose blade 
was keen and bright, and whose hilt was of gold, 
studded with jewels. It was a beautiful, danger- 
ous thing, and it looked doubly so as Gypta took 
it from the case and held it to the light. It 
seemed to shiver like a tongue that quivered and 
thirsted for blood. She held it caressingly and 
pressed the cold steel against the palm of her 
hand. 

‘^So sharp!” she said; ‘‘like an avenging 
tooth. 

“But I must go. Oh, should he prove faith- 
less!” and she laughed a little dangerous laugh. 

“Should he prove faithless, here is my most 
loyal lover and friend. Best here!” she said, 
thrusting the dagger into the billows of lace at 
her breast. 

She shuddered a little as the icy blade touched 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


225 


her warm flesh. Gathering about her a long, 
dark mantle, she stole from the room. 

‘‘Good-by, dear faithful girl,’’ she murmured 
as she saw the sleeping form of Zeta beside her 
door. She listened, then, phantom-like, darted 
through the dim-lighted corridors and halls, 
down into the street. A cab was nearby and she 
called it. 

‘ ‘ Drive quickly ; without delay carry me to — 
Madison Avenue. ’ ’ 

“Yes, lady,” said the coachman as he looked 
with suspicious eyes at the dark figure and white 
face. 

The carriage rattled harshly over the stones 
of the streets, and soon was at the door of the 
tall brownstone mansion in which Barron Bax- 
ter had his apartments. 

Gypta alighted, rang the bell, and the door 
was opened by Baxter’s valet. 

“Is your master in — Mr. Baxter, I mean I” 

“Yes, ma’am, hut he ordered nobody to dis- 
turb him ; but I suppose you must be some of his 
own people, some of his kinfolks, ma’am.” 

Ignoring his words, Gypta placed in his hands 
some silver coins. 

“Your master would willingly admit me, but 
I wish to surprise him. You remain here and 
hold my wraps; I’ll go in softly. Only tell me 
where he may be found. ’ ’ 

“Certainly, ma’am,” said the negro, whose 
polished face beamed as he closed his hand fast 
upon the money. 


226 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^‘He’s in yonder room, just to the left. Yes, 
ma’am, since yon must be some of his kin, he will 
be mighty glad to see you, ma ’am. ’ ’ 

‘^But, Missis,” said the negro after a mo- 
ment’s hesitation, ‘^you will be ’sponsible, will 
you? Mars Barron is mighty high tempered 
when his orders ain’t obeyed to de very p’int. 
You see. Missis, our Southern folks, they gwine 
be obeyed, or we gwine t’ suffer, ma’am.” 

‘ ^ Oh, yes, yes, I understand, ’ ’ said Gypta im- 
patiently. ‘‘Take my wraps,” and she let fall 
her mantle. For an instant the negro servant 
was speechless, his mouth fell open, and only the 
whites of his eyes were visible. 

“Bless de good Lord!” he ejaculated as he 
held in his trembling hands the fallen mantle. 
“De angel from heaven gwine visit Mars Bar- 
ron.” 

“Be silent and remain where you are, do you 
hear?” 

“Oh, yes ma’am, I hear; yes, ma’am, I sure 
hear,” he said as he saw the beautiful strange 
lady enter his master’s apartments and softly 
close the door behind her. 

“If master want Cato, he gwine ring,” and 
with a chuckle of content he looked at the money 
again as he descended to the basement to invest 
it in beer for himself and Katie. 

Through the soft gloom Gypta ’s white form 
stole so stealthily and gently that it might have 
been a truant spirit floating from the sphere of 
the disembodied, as with slow, undulating grace 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


?21 


she moved toward Baxter and paused beside 
him. His hack was turned toward her and she 
crept so near that he inhaled the breath of the 
flowers she wore. She stood watching him for 
several moments. 

He had aged in a day, and the ashy tints of 
death seemed to have settled upon his features. 
His hair, in damp locks, lay limp and cold upon 
his brow, and his lips were as white as the pearls 
Gypta wore. She saw how he suffered, and a 
swift pain leaped to her heart. 

^^How he loves me!’^ she thought. ‘‘Ah, my 
king, my own love,’^ she murmured, bending 
over and kissing his lips, and then his closed 
eyes — 

The touch was so soft and caressing that Bax- 
ter believed it but a dream that had often 
aroused tiis sleeping soul to ecstasy. 

In a semi-conscious way he thought he was at 
the home of his childhood, resting beneath the 
laurel shades, and Cupids from bowers above 
were pelting his face with roses. He felt about 
his neck the soft arms of Gypta, who was shield- 
ing him from the shower of leaves and flowers. 

From the agony of a previous moment he 
floated in a trance of pleasure, as one feels who 
has been burning with consuming fever when 
the cooling ether carries him into vague unre- 
ality ; and in sleep he smiled. 

Gypta drew nearer and nearer, until she could 
no longer remain silent. With one clinging em- 
brace she locked her arms about his neck, and 


228 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


fell upon her knees beside liim. She passion- 
ately caressed his lips, his brow, his cheeks, and 
throat with soft tremulous kisses. 

With a quick, strong movement that almost 
threw Gypta to the floor, Baxter arose to his 
feet. 

‘ ‘ What ’s all this ! Who in the Devil are you 1 
Who are you? Speak!’’ and trembling from 
head to foot, he turned on the full light. 

‘ ^ Great God, Gypta, where did you come from, 
and why are you here?” he exclaimed as Gypta 
confronted him, in robes of white, with the 
sprawling, withered spray of jassamine pinned 
at her breast, shedding a pale glory about her as 
weird as a sunbeam upon a corpse. 

‘‘Say something, Gypta, so I’ll know I’m not 
mad. I believe I’m crazy, and she’s one of the 
visions of my lunacy,” and Barron dragged his 
arm over his eyes and stared wildly before him. 

“My own, my very own, pardon me for this 
intrusion, ’ ’ and Gypta moved nearer and 
reached out her hands toward Barron. ‘ ‘ I know 
it was very wrong to startle you so, but when I 
tell you why I come, you won’t blame me; but I 
should have waited for you to come to me, yet I 
could not wait. No, I could not remain under 
the roof with those people another hour. . Oh! 
Barron, haven’t they been brutal — worse than 
brutal? They’ve told you the awful secret of 
my birth, they call it a curse, and every ignoble 
name possible. They declare it will separate us.” 

“Oh! Gypta!” was all Barron said, as he 


A SON OF CAROLINA 229 

shook his head and clenched his hands nerv- 
ously. 

^‘Yes/^ she went on with rapidly increasing 
speech, ‘‘they said you were proud born, a 
Southern patrician who^d despise me when the 
secret of my birth was known to you, and you 
would die before you^d marry the child of a 
slave. Yes, they said, even though I was pure 
and beautiful as an angel of light, to you I ’d be 
a debased creature. Now, Barron, don’t turn 
away. How they taunted and wounded your 
poor Gypta, who loves you so ! Oh ! they have 
made me already mad, I verily believe, although 
what they said I knew was but mockery and 
falsehood. 

“Oh, Barron, they do not understand such 
love as ours, do they? They don’t know it is no 
mere thing of flesh and blood, but that it is 
deathless, as soul to soul. Isn’t that what our 
love is, dear? We do not care for the little strain 
of despised blood that runs in my veins — and 
Barron, Christ said that all sins beneath His 
mercy and love could become whiter than snow. 
Yes, Christ said that, and surely, Barron, you 
need not be ashamed of me, for see how smooth 
and white I am. Look,” and she tossed back 
from, her neck and arms the lacey draperies she 
wore, and stood beneath the full blaze of the 
chandelier, creamy and firm and white as an 
ivory statue. Her arms were raised with exul- 
tation. 

“Yes, Love, search as you may, you cannot 


230 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


find the slightest tinge of that tiny dark current. 
Could these arms and hands possibly be smoother 
or whiter I Ah, you know they could not. ^ ’ Her 
face was upturned, and her speech was facile 
and panting. Her emotional nature had reached 
almost its highest limit. An inspiration seemed 
to move her as she drew nearer to Barron ; her 
voice rose in sweet cadence, and she gave no evi- 
dence of doubt or fear, until suddenly she be- 
came silent, and her heart leaped wildly. The 
ashy, drawn look and the blank stare in Bar- 
ron’s eyes presaged her doom. 

‘AVhy do you not speak to me? Not a word 
have you said in response to all I’ve told you.” 

‘‘Be patient awhile, please, Gypta. Wait, just 
one minute — just one minute,” and with an ef- 
fort he raised his eyes. 

As Gypta thus confronted him for the first 
time he seemed to see in her abundant beauty a 
barbaric splendor. In the voluptuous form, daz- 
zling skin and drowsy dark eyes he divined an 
oriental charm that belonged to the palms and 
the tropics. In the brief period of a few hours 
this transformation was wrought. 

He looked at her steadily for several minutes, 
then his head bowed until his chin touched his 
breast, and so he sat in absolute silence. Gypta 
in an instant read the change in his face which 
confirmed her fears, and the hot color arose to 
her cheeks. 

‘ ‘ Come, what do you mean ? ’ ’ she cried, falling 
on her knees before Barron. Look at me !” and 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


231 


she caught his hands convulsively and stared at 
him until her eyes seemed to burn and blend into 
his with their eager interrogation, yet Barron 
did not speak or move. 

‘ ‘ Oh ! why do you not say something, to assure 
me you have not gone deaf or mad? You will 
surely drive me mad if I longer see you sit there 
staring in idiotic vacancy. Why not be a man, 
and rise from your lethargy and tell me what 
I ^m to expect of you ? Tell me if they lied to me, 
or does your silence ratify their words. Now, 
come ! Don T be a coward, taunting me so. Tell 
me plainly if I am to suffer the tortures of the 
accursed because of the sins of a man whom I Ve 
no memory of even seeing. I who am spotless 
as a babe, must I be the victim of his licentious 
powers and insatiate lust? You who claim to 
belong to a proud, chivalric race, can you, a rep- 
resentative of that race, consent to see me thus 
crucified for the sins of your people? Are you 
willing for that? Oh! you don’t so much as 
look at me, or take my hand in yours. But a few 
days ago I was fondled and caressed, as the one 
you’d chosen out of all the world as worthy to 
be the mistress of your home, and the mother of 
your children, now I must beg from you a look 
of recognition. 

‘ ‘ Barron ! ’ ’ she called loudly. 

‘^What is it, Gypta?” 

^ ‘ Have you no pity, no mercy on me ? Must I 
go out in the darkness of the night homeless and 
nameless? I have no home, I have no name. 


232 


A SON OF CAEOLINA 


I’m only Gypta, that’s all. No name — no home. 
I ’m just Gypta, ’ ’ she repeated plaintively as her 
head fell in sudden exhaustion and despair. 

^ ‘ Gypta, why did you not wait — ^why did you 
come here?” Barron asked, as though in a 
dream, and as if he hadn ’t heard a word. 

‘‘Heavens above, man!” she cried, “what do 
you ask?” 

‘ ‘ I — I — oh ! I asked why you came here. Why 
did you not send for me, instead of coming here 
at this time of night ? ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Why did I come ? ’ ’ Gypta shrieked in an in- 
dignant frenzy, springing to her feet, and cross- 
ing her hands on her breast. “I came to claim 
from you the protection to which I am entitled. 
Barron, for you I’ve given up all, everything. 
I did not seek you, you came to me, and loved me, 
and I ’ve worshiped the very dust that your feet 
have touched. Everything in comparison with 
that love is chaos, yes nothing. We will go away 
where the curse can not follow us. It will be for- 
gotten in the joyous ecstasy of our love. I’ll for- 
get that I’ve been pampered in the luxury of ease 
and riches. Why, Barron, we will be our own little 
world. You need not work and slave as you’ve 
so long been doing. We will go away, away, far 
away, where we will lead the simplest life pos- 
sible ; our wants will be few. I would not have 
you toil that I might possess more. I love you 
so that in a tent under the pecan groves of Texas 
or Mexico I would be happy, so happy! Oh! 
Barron, let us go there — nobody will know who 


A SON OF CAROLINA 233 

we are. Oh ! Barron, in this world and the eter- 
nities to come love is greatest of all!’’ and she 
opened wide her arms to him. ‘ ^ Come, let ns go, 
let ns go now ! ’ ’ 

Barron clenched his hands nntil they were 
pnrple, and his nails cnt into his flesh, yet he did 
not move. 

‘‘Come, let ns go,” Gypta pleaded caress- 
ingly. 

“Christ pity ns!” Barron said, his voice fal- 
tering, and thick with tears. How strange, 
thonght he, that the knowledge gained in a mo- 
ment had so transformed this woman into a be- 
ing of a lower scale, so that even the heat of his 
Ijassion resolved itself into a bnrnt-ont ember, 
from whence had perished all warmth and glow. 
The beantifnl outstretched arms had no power 
to move him, not that he had become more than 
mortal; bnt the spark of a divine honor had 
been kindled in him. 

Gypta watched him. Then with snrprising 
calmness asked : 

“Is your love not sufficient to bridge over the 
black gnlf that yawns between us? If so, send 
for Father Dolan, our priest, and we will this 
very hour become man and wife. I’m all in 
white, the fitting robes for your bride. See here, 
where I have placed your flowers, the emblem of 
your loyalty. You have often said they grew 
about your home, and also around the vault 
where your fathers of a hundred years rest, and 
you’ve told me their motto was ‘Fidelity and 


234 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Truth. ^ Here, let this odor recall their motto, 
as a reminder that you should be faithful in 
your allegiance to their teachings.^’ So saying, 
Gypta caught a handful of the jassamine and 
crushed them against Barron ^s face. 

With a defiant glare in his eyes, Barron sx>rang 
toward Gypta. ‘‘What do you mean by such 
brutality? What motive have you to taunt and 
mock my misery? For God^s sake, say no more. 
Be silent ! ’ ’ 

Gypta stood undaunted before him, her lips 
closely pressed, while indignant flames leaxjed 
through her stormy black eyes. She drew a long 
breath. For a while they looked at one an- 
other. 

“Forgive me, forgive me,^^ Barron said 
brokenly, as he leaned against the mantel and 
pressed his hands to his temples. “I^m worse 
than a coward to speak to you so. Oh, Gypta, 
pardon me, Gypta, please pardon me ; but you do 
not, cannot know what your words meant to me. 
Those things you speak of are holy and sacred 
and mean so much more than you can under- 
stand. ’ ^ 

Gypta crept very close to Barron and pressed 
her curly head against his cheek as with caress- 
ing tenderness she murmured, “Forgive you? 
Ten thousand million times I forgive you, my 
Barron, my own husband. Ring for your servant 
and let him go for Father Dolan, and bid him 
come at once. Theyfil call me imprudent and 
regard my thus coming to you at such an hour 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


235 


indelicate and tlie act of a Innatic. Make me 
your wife before they search for and find me 
here. ’ ’ 

Barron regained his composure. The touch 
of Gypta’s cheek upon his own aroused him. His 
emotional nature was now under control. 

‘^No! No, no, it is impossible; it cannot be 
as you ask. You cannot he my wife. Truly, 
Gypta, the curse of my people has wreaked an 
awful vengeance on you who are innocent. God ! 
It is cruel, cruel! Sit here, Gypta, and listen 
to me! You will not condemn me if you will 
just hear me. Gypta, let me explain calmly why 
I cannot marry you. 

‘‘My poor girl, if you could but understand all 
as I do, you would not censure me so. Do you 
know that my marriage to you would be the pre- 
lude to the disgrace of a name that has given 
honor and lustre to the proudest State in the 
Union? A man has no right to violate a sacred 
trust or to dishonor the heritage bequeathed to 
him by succeeding generations. You know this, 
Gypta. Selfish motives should not tempt him 
to disloyalty. Gypta, I am the last of my family, 
the last of my name. Now, would it not be the 
basest dishonor for me to blacken, as it were, the 
escutcheon of my fathers^ that they have pre- 
served untarnished for more than a century? I, 
the only representative of that name, by a mesal- 
liance would perpetrate it, but to bring infamy 
and disgrace before my people. Such an act 


236 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


would cause me to become an alien and a brand- 
ed social outcast. ’ ^ 

Gypta listened in silence. 

‘‘My father,’’ he continued, “was a man who 
was just and merciful. He was a good and a 
wise man. The last conversation I ever had 
with him we walked together, and when we stood 
for a while beside the vault wherein are the 
bodies of my ancestors, ‘My son,’ said my father, 
as he pointed to the tomb, ‘in there is your rich- 
est heritage. My wealth is swept away, as you 
well know, but that is paltry pelf in comparison 
to the name engraved on that door. Barron, my 
son, try to follow the exampel of the men who 
lie in that tomb, and should you marry, choose a 
wife as pure and stainless as the women who rest 
there. Never by word or act dishonor your 
name. ’ ‘ With God ’s help, father, ’ I said, ‘ I will 

not. I swear to you I will not.’ That was at 
sunset; before the next sunrise my father was 
dead.” 

Like a beautiful criminal hearing her death 
sentence read, Gypta stood and looked at him. 
An expression of resolution and firmness hard- 
ened on her face. 

“Is that your decision?” she asked as Barron 
ceased to speak. 

“It is and must be my decision, Gypta !” 

Then you refuse to marry me, and declare by 
that refusal that I’m unworthy to become your 
wife, and to bear your name ? ’ ’ 

“You are pure, Gypta, worthy to be the wife 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


237 


of a saint, — but — but, ’ ’ Barron faltered, and his 
voice fell low. ‘‘No, no,’’ he cried, “I cannot 
give you my name. That is my final decision. 
Don’t force me to say more. That is all. For 
God’s sake, don’t tempt me to pain you longer,” 
and he pressed his hands to his temples and 
closed his eyes, in an effort to shut out the suf- 
fering he saw in the face of Gypta. He hoped 
his words would end all, and she would go away 
quietly. But not so. She sprang before him 
with dramatic energj^, and like Rispah defend- 
ing her sons from the vultures, she stood, her 
eyes blazing, a superb hauteur curved her lips. 

“Then your pride has triumphed! Love 
proves a poor, worthless little thing, ’ ’ she cried 
derisively, “in comparison with such pomp and 
pride. Go, noble son of a noble race, and keep 
clean the escutcheon of your fathers. Why ! this 
little drop of dark blood would have caused those 
ancestors to rise in their mouldering shrouds 
and pursue you and leer at you, and point at you 
with their fleshless fingers, and say, ‘Cursed be 
he who hath blackened the name of the Baxters ! ’ 
Yet I wonder which will be the hardest to bear, 
that, or the ghostly condemnation of the spirits 
and a conscience that will ever gnaw at your 
soul? 

‘ ‘ Oh, thou honorable scion of a royal race, go ! 
Sit beside the heaps of dust. Caress the eyeless 
skulls and polished bones, and let me go. What 
is the pulsing heart of a woman you once loved 
and who worships you now, in comparison with 


238 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


such an honored inheritance? Ah! but do you 
know that it is written, ^ A dead king is less than 
a living dog?’ Ah! my brain is burning. I in- 
hale the odor of the jassamine that you ground 
under your heel. I see now what it all meant, 
that you would trample on my heart and crush 
me as you did these flowers. Ah ! I am unworthy 
to now touch the flowers that once grew about 
the home of the Baxters. Take them back! 
Take them back!” And frantically tearing the 
tangle of vine and blossoms in shreds, she flung 
them at Baxter, who stood stunned as he read in 
her face and manner what he believed was sud- 
den lunacy. In a moment the frenzy had spent 
its force, and panting with the excitement that 
had controlled her, she took her seat, and plant- 
ing both elbows on a table near by, propped her 
face in her hands, and gave a great sigh. 

^‘You thought I’d gone crazy, didn’t you?” 
and her lip curled in unmerciful sarcasm, and 
she cast on Baxter a scornful look. ^^How con- 
temptible you are ! So proud of your mummy 
ancestors, I had to rise to dramatic heights to 
give vent to my disgust of you and your marble 
vault of dead men’s bones. I came to you a 
pure, honorable woman, your promised wife. 
You send me away nameless, aye, an outcast, for 
I ’m no longer the daughter of the Leverings. I 
am simply Nanny’s child. You speak of the 
pride of your people, yet I say as I stand before 
you to-day, I represent the blot that ineffaceably 
stains with dishonor your grand beautiful Com- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


239 


monwealth. You might in part have atoned for 
tlie sins of your people, but you have put the nail 
in my poor heart, and I am crucified. Ah ! but 
no glory or redemption follows — ^nothing, only 
loss, loss, and blackness. My God, let me get 
away ! ’ ’ And quickly rising she turned toward 
the door, but grew suddenly white and paused, 
catching the back of the chair for support. As 
she reeled a little Baxter rushed to her side, but 
she waved him away, her big brown eyes gave an 
aggressive flash, and in a moment she righted 
herself, with no apparent strain. ^‘No, no!’^ 
she exclaimed, ‘‘don’t touch me, let me get out 
of here.” 

‘ ‘ Gypta, come back, for God’s sake come back ! 
You are excited, don’t go out looking that way. 
Come, sit there and talk to me, sit down here, 
please, Gypta, for my sake.” 

She searched his face with a queer, cold scru- 
tiny, and hesitated a moment. 

“Gypta,” Barron’s voice was tender and en- 
treating. 

She started. The one word caressingly spoken 
sent the blood bounding to her face, and put a 
great hope in her heart. Her frenzy of rage and 
resentment abated as she sank into the depths of 
a leathern arm-chair, and as Baxter sat opposite 
to her she leant toward him with parted lips, and 
wide eyes that hungrily glistened as she mur- 
mured, ‘ ‘ My darling ! ’ ’ 

Baxter, who had been deathly pale, now 
flushed and trembled. He was in the act of 


240 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


brushing from his face with liis handkerchief 
the moisture left by the juice of the bruised jas- 
samine Gypta had dashed at him in her fury. 

^^Oh! how rude I was!^^ she said with a re- 
sumption of calmness as she took from Baxter ^s 
hand the handkerchief and gave his brow and 
cheek a little wipe, then leaning her face so near 
that Baxter almost felt her passionate throb- 
bing lips upon his own, whispered, ‘^Let me kiss 
it away. ^ ^ 

‘‘No! No! No!’^ and Baxter drew back. 

His nerves were steadier now than they had 
been a moment before. The inevitable sense of 
repulsion and disgust steeled him to action. No 
ignoble smirch had ever tainted his record, and 
no impetuous rush of passion should soil his 
honor now. 

Baxter waited for her reproaches, for the 
stabbing words of an indignant and insulted 
woman ; but as if stunned by his brutality, Gypta 
riveted her eyes on him with a wounded, plain- 
tive look of abject humiliation. Her cheeks were 
scarlet, her chin was tremulous. 

“Pardon me,’’ she said after a time, “I for- 
got I was a social leper and an accursed 
woman,” and she pushed her chair back, widen- 
ing the distance between them, as if she might 
contaminate him. 

“Gypta!” Baxter cried out with a sudden 
change in his voice, drawing his chair close to 
her. “You are an intelligent woman, and must 
hear me. Will you listen a few moments? In 


A SON OF CAROLINA 241 

justice to yourself, and also to me, will you 
do soT’ 

^ ‘ Gio on, ’ ^ she said, clasping her hands wearily. 
She was still dominated by his will. 

‘ ‘ I was going to say, Gypta, we now face each 
other on a new ground. We are victims of a 
vile duplicity. We will waste no time in dis- 
cussing the motives of those people, Mr. and 
Mrs. Levering, in making your life one pro- 
longed lie, which now results in your sulfering 
and my loss and humiliation, Gypta, before 
Heaven, I would willingly have died in prefer- 
ence to the torture IVe endured within the past 
twenty-four hours ; the ordeal has been a thou- 
sand times worse than the death strangle. Gyp- 
ta, there is one thing among the people of the 
South that is stronger than life itself — that is 
the social instinct of racial purity.’’ 

She suddenly looked up. ‘ ‘ Then why am I — ’ ’ 
She did not finish the sentence, but scowled and 
bit her lip in an effort to remain calm. She 
would not further argue the question which 
faced her anew with its hideous reality. 

Baxter heard the unfinished sentence and saw 
the quick, aggressive fiash; he understood, and 
for a moment was thrown from his usually well- 
preserved equipoise. 

‘^Ah, well,” said she, don’t think there’s 
anything else to say,” and Gypta was about to 
rise, when her eyes turned toward the table 
where Baxter sat, and slowly traveled to the 
floor, upon which lay the little Bible that had 


242 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


revealed her awful secret. A shudder passed 
over her; without a word she swiftly walked 
across the room, and with a desperate clutch 
picked up the book as she turned to Baxter, 
watching her. She saw him shrink, and a fresh 
pang of terror showed in his face. Ignoring his 
presence she reseated herself and opened the 
Bible turning the leaves between her trembling 
fingers. Her face softened, the touch of the book 
semed to lull the storm in her spirit and act as a 
sedative to her troubled brain. 

Barron could have choked himself with regret 
and remorse for leaving the Bible where Gytpa 
should see it. He expected a scene of vehement 
denunciation, but in this he was smitten with the 
most poignant surprise. He was gratefully mis- 
taken. He watched her in silence as she contin- 
ued slowly to turn the leaves. Her face showed 
a severe calm as each dingy, crisp little page 
flitted between her fingers — when suddenly there 
was a pause, and Baxter saw that her eyes were 
upon the record leaf that contained the secret of 
her birth. For several minutes they remained 
there — then closing the Bible, she looked up. All 
the storm had passed from her face. There was 
a dead calm under the heavy lids, a fixety of pur- 
pose at the corners of the usually undeterminate 
mouth. 

^^Gypta, do not look that way,’’ Baxter said, 
putting his hand on the arm of the chair in which 
she sat. He wished that she had cried out anew 
or protested, or disbelieved, or launched bitter 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


243 


words at him. Anything would have been more 
endurable than the stony determined expression 
of resignation with which she regarded him. 
Her hands that clasped the Bible were as dead 
hands. Her full scarlet lips were now blanched, 
and her features had grown stark and gray. 

‘‘Mr. Baxter, we understand each other now,’’ 
she said, as if addressing a stranger for the first 
time. 

Baxter winced a little, yet a surge of relief 
rushed warmly through him. He felt that the 
worst was over. 

“Thank God, my poor, poor girl!” Baxter 
said. 

Gypta silenced him with a gesture. 

“Let me talk, now, if you please. I’ve much 
to say, which must be said in the quickest time 
possMe.” 

“Certainly,” and Baxter bowed in courteous 
acquiescence. 

“Mr. Baxter, I’m no longer a maniac. My 
reason has returned with the touch of this Bible. 
I’m now a sane woman. When I learned of my 
ignoble birth I should have willingly released 
you from all of your obligations toward me. I 
should have thanked God for the revelation that 
came, before I blasted and ruined your life with 
the curse of an alliance that as you have sug- 
gested would have presaged eternal disgrace on 
your name and reputation. Since I learned the 
awful facts of my birth I’ve been maddened — 
yes, delirious ; in other words, my worship for 


244 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


you killed reason, justice, and all else — but all 
is different now. Oh, Bar — excuse me — Mr. 
Baxter, I see you now as though you were a dif- 
ferent being. You have taught me my lesson, a 
lesson of which I was absolutely ignorant. I 
didn ^t know quite how basely born I was. ’ ’ Here 
a deep carnation flooded her face. didn’t 
realize that it meant such abject hopelessness. 
No! No! Had I known all as I now do I’d just 
slipped out of your life, and the ordeal through 
which I’ve carried you this night might have 
been averted. 

^ ^ See this 1 ’ ’ and from the folds of lace at her 
bosom she drew forth the dagger she had con- 
cealed there. came prepared to kill myself 
in case of your refusal to marry me — ” 

^^Gypta!” and Barron’s voice rang in an 
agony of entreaty as he sprang toward her, 
grasping the dagger at the hilt and holding it 
firmly. 

Gypta’s hand limply fell at her side as with 
a piteous smile she yielded him the dagger. 

Why, it is already yours ! Why force it from 
me, didn ’t I tell you I ’d recovered reason 1 Oh ! 
do not fear, I ’ll never rise to tragedy again. I ’m 
too humble. Even though you were to get on 
your knees and implore me to be your wife, I’d 
refuse to bring the curse upon you. I’d bury 
that blade to the hilt in my heart before I’d 
marry you. No ! no ! there ’d be no love in buy- 
ing my paradise at the cost of your honor. It 
would be the act of absolute selfishness. Such 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


245 


love as mine means sacrifice, and I can look 
down on this little Bible and kiss its every page, 
because it has been the means of saving you! 
My mother ^s Bible, ’ ^ she murmured softly ; ‘ ‘ she 
left it for me — ’twas all she bad to give; it was 
her dying wish that I should have it to keep her 
in remembrance — I am Nanny’s child, a negress, 
and — my Grod ! I cannot say the rest. ’ ’ 

Baxter’s head was bowed between his bauds. 
The ordeal of those moments beggared every 
agony of his life. 

‘‘I’m a new creature,” she went on, “and I 
must begin all over again. I will look the world 
squarely in the face; no more shams, no more 
masks; what I am God has made me. I’ve al- 
ready endured a million millions perditions. 
Those people — God forgive them, in the begin- 
ning they may have meant to be kind, they took 
me, a little helpless negro child, and because my 
skin was not stained black by my birth they 
thought it a fine thing to pamper me and claim 
me as their child. I swear to you I’d rather my 
own people had kept me, and put me in the cot- 
ton-fields where I belonged than that I should 
now endure this dreadful humiliation, made 
doubly harder to bear because of the culture and 
luxury of my past, which made keen and deli- 
cate my sensitive nature. They tuned my being 
up to the highest suffering pitch, and then turned 
the key. Well, it’s ended,” she said in quiet, 
even tones, as her voice seemed to grow weary, 
“and we at least give my benefactors, and all 


246 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


the rest, the satisfaction of saying, told yon 
so/ Yes, it is as they said, hut I must go,’^ 
and she arose. ^ ‘ Don ’t try to detain me longer. ’ ’ 
Just one moment, please,’^ said Baxter. 

‘‘Now it is my time to talk. IVe listened 
quietly to all you Ve said ; will you litsen to me ? ^ ^ 

“A'es,’’ and Gypta looked into his eyes with a 
look that was terrible in its longing demands. 

“You are a splendid, noble woman, Gypta, and 
I cannot bear to see you dragged down by racial 
conditions. I came into your life, and am the 
cause of your present downfall and unhappiness. 
I must in some way atone. I cannot permit you 
to go out into the world alone and friendless.’^ 

‘ ‘ Why, what do you mean I ’ ’ Gypta asked. He 
saw her shrink as if touched by a lash. 

His next words came slowly and with a tone of 
reverence in them. 

“I mean that I cannot calmly take up life and 
its duties with the thought that you in your 
purity, beauty, and culture must become a crea- 
ture separated from your equals, and from con- 
genial environment, and leave you helpless un- 
der the weight of a condition that is overwhelm- 
ing and universal — a condition, Gypta, which is 
bound to drag you down. Nothing, nothing un- 
der God’s earth can avert it.” 

For a moment Gypta ’s face became stormy 
and a turbulent darkness gathered in her eyes, 
but she did not speak. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 247 

labor under such conditions she asked, almost 
fiercely. 

‘ ‘ You have genius. Y ou know I always named 
you my, — Baxter stammered, — mean I 
called you a tragedy queen. ’ ’ 

Gypta’s full lips curved in an incredulous, sar- 
castic, and pathetic smile. 

‘ ‘ You must allow me to help you to rise. Why 
not go abroad and study? I will arrange all as 
though you were my ward. I verily believe you 
will become one of the foremost actresses on the 
American stage. No one need know of your 
parentage; in fact, Gypta, in the world of art 
such matters are rarely considered. Genius has 
wings, you know, and there are places in the 
world where under its power and influence you 
rise above racial and moral conditions, which are 
to a great extent dismissed. There is a niche for 
you, Gypta, and it is a life of art — the drama 
opens for you, and now I want you to think of 
this, and I pray and beseech you to let me be the 
means of placing you in a position where the 
curse cannot drag you down entirely — where hu- 
miliations and insult cannot reach you. Let us 
settle this matter now. I am in a position to 
meet the necessary demands — one, two, or three 
years ^ study, just as you may decide. My poor 
girl, if you will let me aid you in this way, and 
feel as the days go by that you are in a congenial 
atmosphere, that may eventually result in your 
triumph over present conditions, I may be re- 
lieved to a degree from the intolerable gnawing 


248 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


of sorrow and regret that will otherwise remain 
with me to my dying day. ’ ’ 

Gypta listened to him as she fingered the 
leaves of the Bible that still lay upon her lap, but 
not a word or an intonation of his voice escaped 
her. 

^^A shallow compromise, ^ ^ she thought, as a. 
passionate symphony of flesh and spirit was 
keeping time to her every heart-throb. ^ ^ Coolly 
and calmly he sits and plans my future as he 
would a mere business transaction, a matter-of- 
fact solution of some every-day problem.’’ 

Little did she know that Baxter was making 
the effort of his life to be calm and just, and he 
would have renounced every material thing in 
his possession, and starved his life to its end, if 
by so doing he could save her and atone for the 
unfortunate part he had played in her destiny. 

‘ ‘ I should have left her alone when I knew she 
was the promised wife of Hamlin. Had she mar- 
ried him, her secret would never have been di- 
vulged, and she would have been the worshiped 
social queen of her set. I should have left her 
alone,” he said to himself over and over again; 
and now as he faced Gypta and offered the only 
reparation he possibly could, it seemed a mock- 
ery. It was so little in comparison with the im- 
mensity of her wrongs. 

Gypta,” he repeated, ^^do you accept my 
offer! I’ve proposed a solution out of present 
difficulties. May I help you ! ’ ’ 

Gypta tightly closed her eyes, adding inten- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


249 


sity to her words. ^‘No ! no ! no ! I thank yon, 
I^m very grateful ; but, Mr. Baxter, I cannot, and 
will not consent to any of your suggestions. 

‘^Art,^^ she murmured, and a sad smile 
touched her lips. ‘M^m done with artifice, on 
or otf the stage. IVe already spent my life in 
parading on the stage, and simulating some- 
thing I’m not. I didn’t know I was acting, but 
now that the revelation is made to me, I’m just 
as tired as if I ’d been a hundred nights playing 
my role in the glare of the footlights. Oh! I’m 
tired, tired ! ’ ’ and she passed her hands over her 
eyes like a child who is ready to fall asleep. 

Baxter’s head fell, and two heavy furrows 
rolled between his brows. He bit viciously at his 
moustache, and worked his fingers nervously. 

‘H’m not angry with you now. No, I’ve no 
revenge or censure in my heart toward you; 
that’s all gone,” Gypta continued. just feel 
like a poor, bruised, wounded, lonely woman, 
starting out after a terrible conflict. The great- 
est help you can give me is to leave me alone, 
that I may never see your face again. Just leave 
me to struggle and battle alone. You have as- 
sured me that race prejudice is old and everlast- 
ing as the hills. You say this hatred is confined 
to no section — and now I tell you, since such is 
true, my life is wrapped in a hopeless tangle, 
and I’m unwilling to drag you into its meshes. 
You’re out now, so stay out ! 

^Ht is braver to be honest, and wiser to be pre- 
pared for what I’m to endure. I must go it 


250 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


alone ; you or no one else can play my hand with 
me. Fate has shuffled the cards — win or lose, I 
must go it alone ! ^ ^ 

Gypta arose. ‘‘Will you promise never to 
enter my life again, Mr. Baxter? Just let it be 
as though the curtain had gone down on some 
drama of make-believe people. Think of me as 
the leading lady, who has stepped down from 
the stage and gone back behind the curtain, 
while you pass on and out, maybe to your club, 
or some drawing-room — or — no matter where — 

“Oh! I want you to blot the memory out of 
yourself. Let me go away, and you forget I 
ever existed — forget my face — my name. Oh, 
God ! I have no name ! Better think of me as in 
my coffin — try and imagine I am the woman you 
once loved, pure and untainted by the curse, ly- 
ing in my grave. When you think of Gypta, just 
say to yourself, ‘She was a woman who wor- 
shiped me, and — and I thought I worshiped 
her — hut she died. ^ Oh ! say anything, only let 
the poor wretched creature who is left in her 
stead go and hear her hideous mortification, and 
shame, all alone. Oh ! I could die of the humilia- 
tion of it all. If you would he at least kind to 
me, do not try to find me, never ! never ! never ! 
You’ve cut out my heart, now please don’t hack, 
hack, hack at it. Just let it bleed and ache until 
it is stone dead!” 

Baxter stood and looked at her, while she 
searched his face with keen scrutiny. 

“Until it is stone dead,” she repeated. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


251 


^‘Wlien do you leave, GyptaT’ Baxter asked 
with abrupt interest. ‘ ‘ Where are you going 1 ^ ^ 

4 < I >ni going home, home ! ^ ’ The words rolled 
like a rich anthem from her lips. 

She paused as Baxter stared at her in eager 
inquiry. 

‘ ‘ Where do you call home now ? ^ ^ 

^‘Oh, that doesnT matter,’^ she said, shaking 
her head. 

‘‘Will you, Gypta, remember wherever you 
may go, and so long as we both may live, a word 
or line to me will be sufficient to command my 
attention? You must never suffer want while I 
live, Gypta. Remember this. ^ ’ 

“Thank you,’^ was ail she said as she glanced 
toward the candles that were flickering in their 
silver sockets. 

“My! I believe the dawn is breaking!’^ she 
exclaimed with a wide-eyed, startled look. “I 
must go I ’ ’ 

Not alone, Gypta, I will escort you to your 
door, at least,’’ and Baxter turned to gather up 
his hat and cane. 

“ No ! no ! Let me go as I came, and as I must 
continue the rest of life — alone.” 

“You even refuse me that, Gypta?” Barron 
said almost fiercely. 

“God help me!” she moaned. Then with a 
sudden change in her voice she sprang toward 
Barron and fell at his feet. 

“Barron! my Barron!” she cried. “It is all 
over! and I must leave you. God have mercy 


252 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


on me ! ’ ’ As a dog that has been lashed into a 
frenzy of pain writhes and crawls, and licks the 
hand of its master who has gashed its flesh until 
it drips with blood — so Gypta fondled and 
kissed and caressed the hand of Baxter as she 
rocked against his knees in an abandonment of 
passion and woe. 

‘^Love! Love! I love you — trample me, 
crush me, strangle me if you will, but I can’t 
help loving you, Barron. I love you — love you, ’ ’ 
she murmured as her hot, panting lips clung to 
Baxter’s clenched hands. 

This outburst of despair and passion was more 
than Baxter expected, and for a moment in dumb 
pain he looked down on the beautiful disheveled 
head, and queenly form reclining at his feet. 

^‘This will never do, Gypta,” he said with an 
effort for mastery as he disengaged her hands 
from his and assisted her to rise. 

Thank you, do not be alarmed, the scene is 
over. You need not look like a milk-white mar- 
tyr or a Saint Anthony arming yourself for a 
conflict with the flesh and the devil.” The thick 
lips that were a moment before scarlet and puls- 
ing curled back sneeringly, and eyes that had 
throbbed a moment before with liquid fire now 
gazed with a certain wounded disdain. 

Holding out her hand to Baxter, who had 
moved back several paces, she said, ‘‘Thank 
God, you at least are saved from the curse, and 
I’ve not dragged you into the meshes of my 
black destiny. Good-by I ’ ’ 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


253 


Baxter looked at her. Since she must go, he 
prayed for an end to the awful agony under 
which they both suffered. He would not trust 
himself to speak, but grasping the outstretched 
hand he caught it in both of his with crushing 
vehemence. 

‘^Good-by! Good-by, Gypta,^^ was all he said. 

It was the act of a moment. Gypta withdrew 
her hands, and with one yearning, starving, in- 
tense look she was gone. 

She did not know she was followed, until a 
strong hand was upon her arm, assisting her in 
the carriage. She started. 

‘ ^ Thank you, ’ ’ she gasped as the door slammed 
and the carriage was driven away. 


CHAPTEE XXIII 


With slender pallid fingers creexfing from the 
bosom of night, Dawn, with a silver thread flut- 
tering on a breeze, took up the first stitch in the 
warp and woof of another day. The tapestry of 
this new day must clothe a waiting world with its 
varied folds. To some it meant the glorious 
mail of triumph and victory, to others the bridal 
attire of love and tenderness ; but to Gypta this 
weaving of the dawn signified a shroud and 
winding-sheet. As she sat in the hansom as it 
rolled through the quiet streets, bearing her 
each moment farther and farther away from 
Baxter, she knew that her youth had died with 
the night, and her life on that new day began on 
ghastly and terrible lines. The vital chapter in 
her life’s history closed. She had crouched at 
the feet of man for the only and last time. She 
knew that until the death-rattle in her throat 
rung down the drama of her existence the mem- 
ory and worshixo of Baxter would dominate her 
very soul. 

Yet there was a certain triumph in her suffer- 
ings — a sense of having renounced all for his 
dear sake. He explained to her the terrors of 
miscegenation and what the resulting curse of 
such a marriage would mean to generations yet 
unborn. She knew he was right; and as she 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


255 


sank back with closed eyes the cool breath of the 
morning against her cheek, the frenzy of passion 
spent, she felt as though she had endured every 
degree of suffering and now the climax pang had 
been reached. Yet at that moment she loved 
Barron in a way that she would gladly had each 
limb of her body wrenched from its socket were 
such physical torture necessary to save him 
from the terrible doom. With a sickening sense 
she recalled how she had fallen at his feet, like a 
cowering dog, and with what iron calm he had 
raised her. She remembered the ring of re- 
proach in his voice and the haughty repose in his 
face, born of an unyielding pride, while she, 
gored and maddened with love, cringed before 
him, with caresses, willing and ready to plunge 
her soul into perdition at his bidding. Her mind 
ran riot as one side of her nature shuddered with 
revenge, censure and bitterness for what 
seemed the most heartless brutality. But swift 
as naphtha leaps to flame, her blameless love 
went back, back to Baxter, despising herself for 
permitting one treacherous thought to find lodg- 
ment in her mind. 

The carriage stopped before the Levering 
home, where Gypta was suddenly jostled from 
her musings. 

A tremor passed over her. She shivered and 
drew her cloak close about her. Stepping quick- 
ly from the carriage, she caught together her 
skirts, and fairly ran up the steps, unlocked the 
door, and rushed in with a stealthy quiet. Pass- 


256 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


ing down the hall, she crept up the soft carpeted* 
stairs to her room. 

Thank Grod, they haven’t missed me!” she 
said, looking around eagerly. 

There was no evidence of life astir. Mrs. Lev- 
ering had for the fifth time during the night 
crept down the hall and listened at Gypta’s door. 
Hearing no sound, she felt assured that she was 
resting well, and Zeta equally confident that her 
mistress was asleep, her absence from the house 
was not discovered. 

‘‘They must not, and shall not know that I 
have been forsaken and flung aside by him. It 
would be their triumph and please them far too 
well. No, there must be no sign of my visit to 
him — shrewd woman that she is, she will under- 
stand all by the smallest evidence, ’ ’ and so say- 
ing she began to disrobe quickly. She was star- 
ing at herself in the glass as she unhooked her 
corsage. Suddenly she paused, and cried out, as 
if in physical pain. She had forgotten the Bible 
she had slipped under the lace where the dagger 
had before been concealed, and she saw it, brown 
and musty, nestling there like an accusing wit- 
ness. At the sight of it she shuddered so that 
her bosom throbbed with a tumultuous pang, 
making the book vibrate like a living thing. 

“ Oh ! I don ’t know if I hate or love you, ’ ’ she 
said, tossing the Bible from her. “Had the rats 
gnawed you to atoms, or you’d been burned, he 
would never have known my pollution; and in- 
stead of now being what I am, I ’d be his wife — 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


257 


his 'Wife! Oh! God!^’ she murmured, as closing 
her eyes her arms were pressed across her bos- 
om, and her lips pouted in a tremulous smile. 
From head to foot she quivered as the blissful 
thought took vivid form. 

‘ ^ But I ’m nothing but a poor outcast, homeless 
and nameless, too lowly to be worthy a parting 
caress, or even one fond regretful word ! ’ ’ With 
this thought she heat her clenched hands against 
her breast as she paced the floor. Her brain felt 
strange, the truth was full upon her, and she 
wondered why she had not at the very beginning 
let her dagger do its work and end it all. ‘‘Ah ! 
no, that would have meant cowardice and de- 
feat, ’ ^ she reflected. ‘ ‘ They shall never know, ^ ’ 
she repeated, as her bridal gown slipped down 
about her feet in a snowy, filmy cloud. 

“Go! go! Ifll never need you,’’ and she gave 
it a little kick of finality before widening her 
arms and gathering up the billowy heap, which 
she cast in an open trunk, upon which she 
slammed the top. “There now, when I’m gone, 
they’ll find you.” 

After putting on a soft robe she flung herself 
on the couch, but with no idea of rest. With her 
arms locked over her head, and her eyes fixed on 
one spot of the wall, she began to live over her 
life in thought. She saw it in a series of scenes. 
Her life abroad — her first glimpse of Paris — 
and then the years of her girlhood spent in a 
convent in the south of France. She saw the 
serene face of Mother Superior in the soft mel- 


258 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


low light that filtered through the stained glass 
windows, and it seemed she felt her slim, firm 
fingers upon her wrist as she knelt with her be- 
neath the big cross in the chapel. now know 
the meaning of the agony on the face of Jesus, 
she thought with a shudder. ‘ ‘It used to frighten 
me, and Mother Superior once reproached me 
for shrinking and shielding my eyes when she 
wanted me to look at the wounds in the pierced 
side. ‘My daughter,’ she said, ‘you have never 
been pierced or wounded; you have never suf- 
fered, but one of these days you may feel the 
nail in your side, and instead of shrinking away, 
you will clasp the feet of Jesus, and weep and 
pray at the foot of His Cross. ’ That is w^hat she 
said long, long ago, and Father Ryan told me a 
thousand times to ‘resist the fiesh and the 
Devil’ — that I was more flesh than spirit. Ah 
me! if I hadn’t another mission in life, I’d go 
back to that blessed old place, and live in the 
shadow of the cross the remaining years of my 
life. Should I fail in my mission. I’ll go back 
and say, ‘ Holy Mother, the nail is in my side. I 
too am crucified. I’ve come back.’ ” With 
flash-like rapidity the memory faded before the 
dazzle of her debut in New York, and later her 
social triumps, — the meeting of Emon Hamlin — 
here her pulse quickened — her first sight of 
Barron Baxter — the splintering ice, his out- 
stretched arms, his compelling love, and then — 
and then she remembered nothing more. 

“Will Mademoiselle have her cafe?” Zeta 


A SON OF CAROLINA 259 

asked softly, entering the room several hours 
later. 

‘‘Will Mademoiselle have her cafe!^^ she re- 
peated, approaching the bed and bending over 
her mistress. Following this action, a scream of 
terror brought the household to the chamber. 

‘ ‘ Madame, come ! come ! ’ ^ she shrieked. ‘ ‘ Mad- 
emoiselle is dead — quite dead ! very dead. She 
is dead, Madame — she is sure — ^be quick and 
come! Mother of Jesus, help us!^’ With this 
cry Zeta fluttered about like a headless fowl, just 
slain, wringing her hands in a frenzy of grief 
and excitement. 

Thoughts that made Mrs. Levering numb, and 
almost heli^less, raced through her mind as she 
approached Gypta, who had nearly fallen from 
the couch. Her head was hanging limply, and 
her face, terrible in its pallid beauty, was up- 
turned. The thought that she had killed herself 
was foremost with Mrs. Levering. With una- 
vailing caresses and endearing cries she im- 
plored for one word of forgiveness or recogni- 
tion, but she might as well have called to the 
marble statuette that glanced at her mockingly 
from beneath its tray of violets. 

In an unconscious condition close akin to 
death Gypta had fallen, followed by fever and 
delirium, which for many weeks presaged a fatal 
ending. 

Only the physicians and nurses heard her rav- 
ings, which fortunately the honor of the profes- 
sion held secure. Very rarely was Mrs. Lever- 


260 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


ing permitted to visit tlie room, and on such oc- 
casions, when attempting to administer little at- 
tentions, Gypta firmly repulsed her. Something 
within protested savagely — she shrank from her 
touch as though having been stabbed by her. She 
was trying to heal the wound with kisses. 

‘‘Please leave me to my nurses,’^ Gypta said 
with all the firmness she could command, as one 
day Mrs. Levering buried her face on the pillow 
beside her and implored for one word of the old- 
time atfection. 

“ No ! no ! I cannot go until you call me mamma 
or mother,’’ Mrs. Levering said, sobbing aloud. 

“You have never called me by either of these 
dear names since — since — ” and her voice 
broke. 

“Please go away,” Gypta cried piteously. 
‘ ‘ Only go, and when I ’m stronger I ’ll talk to you. 
I’m thinking now. I’m not too weak to think 
and plan — my memory has been wiped out dread- 
fully, but it is alive now, and lasliing me up to 
action, so please go away. ’ ’ 

“Say, ‘Mamma — still my own mother, I love 
you’ — say these little words and — ^and then I will 
go, my love, — only call that name and kiss me,” 
and she fell on her knees and wrapped Gypta in 
her arms with fierce affection. 

“No! no!” she cried, struggling to free her- 
self. “I cannot, and will not. I’ve no right to 
call you by that name, and you know I haven’t. 
Never, never again will you hear those words 
from my lips ! Go away now, please, ’ ’ and pant- 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


261 


ing with exhaustion, Gypta fell back upon her 
pillow, and turning her face to the wall closed 
her eyes, with a certain gray weariness spread- 
ing from brow to her finger-tips. 

With the appalling knowledge that Gypta was 
eternally lost to her, Mrs. Levering left the 
room, while a moan of remorse and despair 
crushed its way thorugh her lips. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


^‘IVe come because you sent for me,’’ Mrs. 
Levering said a few days later, sinking in a chair 
opposite to where Gypta half -reclined on the 
sofa among a heap of cushions. 

‘‘Yes, I sent for you — I’m strong and well 
now,” and Gypta paused. “Yes, I want to talk 
to you on matters of the keenest interest to me. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Levering turned white and stared at 
Gypta in eager inquiry. 

“I want to ask some questions. I presume 
you and Mr. Levering are the only persons who 
can give me the facts I require.” 

“Don’t call your father that — please don’t — 
it would kill him — it wasn’t his fault, he — ” 

Gypta ’s hand was raised with a command for 
silence that could not be disobeyed. 

“Now, we’re not here for a scene — ^we face 
each other as women who want to be honest. I 
know I do. I beg that you will put aside every 
other subject. We are here to talk on matters 
calmly and quietly,” and Gypta drew a paper 
and pencil toward her. Her tone was courteous 
and her face firm. 

Mrs. Levering gave her a frightened glance. 

‘ ‘ Why do you speak in that way ? ’ ’ she asked, 
her eyes blinking nervously. 

“What wayl” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


263 


‘^As though we were strangers entering into 
a business transaction. That is what I mean. ’ ’ 
Gypta balanced the pencil above the paper. 
‘ ^ Will you tell me the location of my birthplace — 
the exact locality — dates — incidents of my 
birth — that is, if you can do so — and tell me 
everything you know about — about my mother? ** 
Here her voice mellowed and lowered to a tender 
tone. ‘ ^ Yes, my mother. I want to know some- 
thing about her, and my own people — the ne- 
groes, you know I^m one.’^ She looked up at 
Mrs. Levering, with a dead calm under her 
heavy lids and fixedness of purpose at the cor- 
ners of her usually undetermined lips. 

‘ ‘ Hush ! hush ! ^ ^ Mrs. Levering shrank away, 
her eyes gleaming with wrath, her body quiver- 
ing. ‘‘You shanT call yourself by that debased 
name. You^re trying to insult me by bemean- 
ing yourself,^’ and she burst into a tempest of 
tears and self-pity. ‘ ‘ Oh ! to think Gypta should 
say such a thing to me ! That she would dare 
say it. Oh ! God, what shall 1 do 
“Answer my question, please, and I promise 
never again to trouble you. If I seem cruel and 
hard to you, just remember the thought that’s 
with me in this. I ’ve gone through the tortures 
of the condemned because of you; now if you 
would not have me leave you this moment, never 
to look on your face again, give me the informa- 
tion I now ask. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Levering looked up, the tears glittering 
in her hollow eyes. 


264 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘^Gypta, I knew he would never marry you, 
but — 

^‘Hush! how dare youT^ Gypta commanded, 
stamping her foot as her exasperated glance 
swept over Mrs. Levering with withering fury. 

^ ‘ Gypta, don ’t be so hard on me — what I was 
going to say, T beg you in the name of — your 
father — Mr. Levering if you will — to let every- 
thing be just as before — only stay with us — still 
be our own loved daughter. You need not marry 
Emon Hamlin or anybody else unless you wish 
to. In the six weeks of your illness great things 
have taken place. Your father has recovered 
his losses, his mining stock out in Nevada that 
he didn’t think was worth the paper on which it 
was printed, well, it has doubled, yes trebled. 
After all, we ’re not so awfully poor — that means 
we’re worth a clean cool million. Now, my love, 
what have you to say?” and Mrs. Levering sat 
up quite straight with a backward toss of the 
head. 

H’m very glad of that.” A tone of deep ear- 
nestness was in Gypta ’s voice. ‘‘Very, very 
glad,” she repeated, tapping the table with her 
pencil. “But,” here she glanced up, the dark 
look gathering ominously about her eyes, “I 
want to say this, although I’ve suffered I’m still 
aware of what is due you. Gratitude survives 
when other emotions are stark dead, and I re- 
solved that so long as I had the capacity to earn 
a living, though I never laid eyes on you again, 
you should not have suffered want. * Now I’m 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


265 


relieved to know the hideous curse of poverty 
that you have dreaded so long is averted. I 
have a voice that the great Cenique called a gold 
mine. God gave me the voice, but your money 
cultivated it. Yes, I intended paying you.’’ 
Balancing the pencil above the paper, she went 
on. Now I’m ready.” 

With hesitation Mrs. Levering answered the 
questions put to her. This over, Gypta folded 
the paper, placing it between the leaves of the 
Bible that lay on her lap. 

‘‘Thank you so much,” she said, rising and 
crossing the room. Mrs. Levering watched her 
in a dazed, puzzled way as she saw her place this 
in her desk, lock it, and put the key in her 
purse. 

“Now, it’s but due you that I tell you I’m go- 
ing away,” and she turned to Mrs. Levering, 
who gasped and clenched her hand to her heart. 
“I can no longer remain under your roof,” she 
continued; “you cannot expect it. But before 
going I want to thank you for all the kindness 
and care which you gave me for so many years. 
For that I’m grateful — but most of all I thank 
you for telling me before it was too late, that I 
was lowly born and nameless. Had you per- 
mitted me to dishonor the name, and blast the 
life of him — why, I’d have cursed you with every 
remaining breath that I drew. We will not dis- 
cuss your motives ; but though I’m torn and ach- 
ing, yet I can rivet the nail still deeper in my side 
and smile while I suffer, because he is saved.” 


266 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘^Gypta, such tangential flights are madden- 
ing. Don’t you see you are killing me?” and 
Mrs. Levering ’s voice from its high tension 
swiveled into a piteous whine. ‘‘Killing me — 
yes ; I can’t stand it a day longer. Will you tell 
me where you’re going? You don’t mind tell- 
ing me, do you?” she asked plaintively as she 
sent an appealing look toward Gypta, who for 
a moment hesitated as she passed her hand over 
her eyes. 

“I’m going home, that’s where I’m going; 
down South, where my people are. I belong 
there.” 

‘ ‘ Oh, God ! She is crazy ! ’ ’ shrieked Mrs. Lev- 
ering. “Gypta, you have fever; your brain is 
wrong. You’re talking in delirium; my child, 
what is the matter with you ? ’ ’ 

“Why, nothing at all,” Gypta replied calmly, 
arching her brows and lifting the corners of her 
mouth. “Is it not natural that I should wish 
to go to my home, my dear Madame? I’m talk- 
ing free from passion or prejudice. I confess 
I’ve been out of my mind many times lately, but 
my brain is cool and clear now, and it is my fixed 
determination to go back from where I was 
cruelly taken — yes, you shouldn’t have brought 
me away. The South is the home of the negro. 
That ’s where I belong. ’ ’ 

“You haven’t a vague idea of what you’re 
talking about. How many negroes have you 
ever seen? Tut! tut! girl, you’re ignorant.” 
Mrs. Levering ’s voice assumed more control. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


267 


^‘You were always full of odd fancies, absurd 
and unreasonable; but when you talk of ever 
affiliating or associating with those people, it 
proves you need a keeper. I’m a Northern 
woman, yes, every fibre of my body is Yankee — 
Yankee to the backbone. From childhood I was 
stuffed with such literature as ‘Uncle Tom’s 
Cabin,’ and the like. I became emotional and 
used to lie awake at nights and weep over the 
poor down-trodden race who were held in 
slavery. I used to think they were all in chains, 
and big men called overseers or slave-drivers 
would beat them several times a day. I was so 
wrought up that on one occasion I took from my 
finger my largest solitaire diamond and threw it 
in a collection taken up to aid in their emancipa- 
tion. I’ve wished I had my solitaire back a 
thousand times. Yes,” she went on excitedly, 
as Gypta listened with unfeigned interest, “I 
used to dream of a time of rescue, when I might 
be a second Joan of Arc, and, mounted on a 
snow white charger, dash down South through 
the cotton and sugar-cane fields and break their 
chains of bondage and set them free. When at 
school in Boston I spent my holidays sitting and 
gazing up through blood-shot eyes at the statue 
on the public square that represents the poor 
negro under the overseer’s lash. It seemed I 
could feel the lash bringing blood from my own 
heart. Well, early after the war I went South; 
and I ’ll not go into particulars, but will say this 
much — that in less than six months I was con- 


2G8 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


vinced that we of the North were wasting our 
sympathy on a race that are best when left alone 
by us. We should have known long ago that the 
Anglo-Saxon and the negro could never amalga- 
mate. ^ ’ 

^‘For that reason I’m going,” Gypta said 
quietly. ‘‘A little leaven leaven eth the whole 
lump, and a drop of blood tainteth the whole 
body. You, the Anglo-Saxon, and I, the negro, 
cannot mix. See ? ’ ’ 

^ ‘ Gypta, you will madden me. I tell you, ne- 
groes as a race are thick-lipped, flat-nosed, and 
ignorant. They were brought from savage Af- 
rica and sold from trading-ships into slavery. 
Agitators, sincere, hut misguided, raised the 
question of their liberty, and they were emanci- 
pated. Oh, Gypta, put away that absurd idea 
and stay where you are ! You are cultured and 
blessed with marvelous beauty of body and mind. 
You can no more associate with Africans than a 
thoroughbred racer can go in harness with a 
mongrel donkey, or a humming-bird nest with a 
leather- winged bat,” and Mrs. Levering tapped 
the floor nervously with her foot. 

‘‘Dear Madame, have no such fears. I’m 
fully aware of that, but I ’m going South to study 
the question for my own satisfaction. I don’t 
remember that I’ve seen more than a dozen ne- 
groes in all my life. In London, at Lady Lang- 
ston ’s drawing-room, there was great excitement 
because Professor Koeper had a funny little 
woman to sing, who report had it was a mulatto. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


269 


though she swore she was a Creole from New 
Orleans. Now here in New York I Ve seen sev- 
eral negroes in the capacity of maids, coachmen, 
and nurses. Mrs. Livingston Pierpont’s coach- 
man is a negro. He is black as a polished lump 
of anthracite coal. But seriously, you know well 
enough I Ve no idea of placing myself on a level 
with those people. However, weVe not going 
to quarrel or longer argue the question. Right, 
wrong, duty, and desire have all been arrayed 
before me in a ghastly and fierce warfare. In 
acquainting you with my decision, I think I ful- 
fil my last and only duty to you. I believe that 
is about all I want to say. ^ ^ 

Mrs. Levering gave her a swift, heartbroken 
look as she exclaimed: 

‘‘Stay! Stay! My darling Gypta! Gypta!’^ 
She put out her arms to detain her, but without 
a look or a word Gypta passed from the room. 
The dull echo of the closing door vibrated on 
Mrs. Levering V ear like the last clod on the cof- 
fin of a loved one. As she sat alone in the still- 
ness she knew that Gypta was forever dead to 
her. 


CHAPTER XXV 


‘ ‘ The fact is, my clear Madame, drugs will do 
you no good; your nerves have had some tre- 
mendous wrench — youH^e been on a terrible 
mental strain. Now, the first thing I recommend 
is, that just as soon as possible you get out of the 
city. Go where it is quiet, so that you may have 
absolute rest.’’ 

This was Dr. Geddings ’s injunction to Gypta 
one week after her arrival in Charleston, whence 
she had gone for the purpose of becoming famil- 
iar with the country and the class of people to 
whom she belonged. While this was paramount 
in her mind, — at least she so tried to persuade 
herself, — there was an underlying craving to 
breathe the air that gave Barron Baxter birth, 
and nurtured him — a deep abiding desire to live 
and die in the land of the Baxters and the Pres- 
cotts. She had determined to claim the name of 
her father — the name written in her little Bible. 
She had no other, she would claim it by right of 
heritage, though it was a record that told of a 
birthright of infamy. 

From the day of her arrival until the present 
time she had been in a state of unreality. All 
she could do was to breathe the soft April air of 
her native land, look about her in vague wonder, 
and think. She had thought so much that her 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


271 


brain seemed as if every fibre of reason was un- 
raveling and the web and woof of mental 
strength were fringing into shreds. This she 
told the doctor as he put his hand on her shoul- 
der with gentle firmness. 

^‘Yes, I know that is true, and it^s for that 
reason IVe advised you to get away from here 
at once. This air, while deliciously soft and 
soothing, is enervating. And this hotel is too 
noisy for you. It’s true you are here in touch 
with the best element of society, for this old 
Mills House you must know is one of our oldest 
and most homelike hostelries in the South. My 
dear young lady, you are in no condition to enjoy 
social friction or exciting entertainments; so 
just make up your mind to rest ; be as indolent as 
possible. Our Southern women grow luxurious- 
ly lazy at this season. The atmosphere will be 
very generous in assisting you to a month of su- 
preme composure.” 

^‘Oh, Doctor!” Gypta said piteously, ^H’m 
longing for just such rest as you tell me I need. 
I ’m well in body, only it seems my soul and heart 
are tired — tired ! ’ ’ 

It was the first time she felt how incapable she 
was of doing anything heroic. The wrath of a 
proud nature under insult, and a sense of pas- 
sionate resentment she had successfully re- 
pressed, but the reaction was upon her, and 
every nerve in her body was feeling the drain of 
expenditure. She longed to throw herself as a 
daughter into the arms of the fatherly old physi- 


272 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


cian who had shown for her such tender sympa- 
thy, and to abandon herself to the unrestrained 
grief of a woman who is sensible that she has 
lost all that made existence sweet ; but the rack 
of the real still held her in its iron jaws, and her 
heart was being eaten away by the acrid truth 
of her inferiority. 

‘ ‘ If he knew me, great and noble as he is, I ^d 
be stung to madness by the look that the revela- 
tion would call to his face. It would brand me 
anew — accursed! Yes I want to go away! 
away ! ’ ^ 

In the mean while. Dr. Geddings tapped his 
gold-rimmed glasses on the table, while his head 
was bowed in thought. This young woman, with 
her surpassing beauty and subtle grace of man- 
ner, her flexibility of mind and magic charm of 
voice, was to the old doctor a rare puzzle. There 
was about her an indescribable something diffi- 
cult to analyze. Every glance or droop of her 
sombre eyes, always earnest, even to sadness, 
smothered some haunting mystery. Every curve 
of her thick, scarlet lips was full of mournful 
tenderness, and every movement of her figure 
an expression of voluptuous grace. This unique 
personality was bewildering, yet Gypta appealed 
to Dr. Geddings as no other patient had ever be- 
fore done. 

^ Doctor, Gypta asked after a few moments’ 
silence, ^ ‘where must I go ! ” Her voice was full 
of clinging, childish trust. 

“That is just what I’m now thinking about,” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


273 


said he as he looked contemplatively at the ceil- 
ing, closing one eye and pursing his lips. 

‘ ‘ Let ^s see ! Let ’s see ! ^ ’ Down came his open 
palm upon the table. ‘ ‘ I have it. Just the place 
exactlj^, since you insist, for reasons of your 
own, upon remaining in this part of the country. 
I have found an ideal home for you. Ton my 
word, if I looked the world over I could not find 
a more suitable retreat, that is for one month 
only. After this you will be forced to go to a 
higher altitude. May is delightful in the Ashley 
and Cooper regions, but June and the rest of the 
year are intolerable.^’ 

^‘Oh, Doctor, tell me all about it!” For the 
first time in many weeks a brilliant smile suf- 
fused Gypta’s face. 

^‘Yes, Miss Prescott, it is just the place for 
you exactly. It is a stately home, with a couple 
of good old people who will treat you as though 
you were their own child. Just rely on me. I 
will make all arrangements, and it ’s my opinion 
that in less than a fortnight your nerves will be 
strong as cable wires and the color will run riot 
in your cheeks. Then you will be equipped for 
your mission, whatever it may be — though re- 
member, you must select your work. J ust take 
on what your brain can stand, and drop all else. ’ ’ 
What does the place look like. Doctor? Tell 
me, and I’m going to be obedient and do just 
as you say. But is it a farm-house with chick- 
ens and geese and cows and country things ? ’ ’ 

Dr. Geddings ’s eyes twinkled with an amused 


274 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


smile. ^^No, not exactly; it is more like the ro- 
mantic lodge of some exiled baron. It is shut out 
from the world by water-oaks that are regular 
old grey-beards; and flowers — flowers without 
end. ^ ^ 

^^Oh! Doctor, what kind of flowers T’ Oypta 
asked eagerly. 

‘‘Why, just flowers, child. I can’t for the life 
of me tell you. Yes, so I can — there are mag- 
nolias, and enough yellow jassamine to hang the 
nations of the earth in big, fragrant, golden 
ropes. Now you didn’t know the old Doctor 
could be poetical, eh? Yes, it is one of the old 
Ashley Eiver homes. You will not be very far 
from the city, and can drive or ride or take the 
boat — ” 

“Has the house a name. Doctor?” interrupted 
Gypta, a certain fear seizing her. 

“Bless me! why, my dear child, what’s the 
matter?” the Doctor said, grasping her wrist 
and placing his finger on her pulse. 

“What’s the name. Doctor? Tell me, please.” 
The voice was a wail of entreaty. 

“Gray croft,” said he, still holding her hand 
and looking in her face with searching earnest- 
ness. 

Gypta drew a quick breath of relief. 

“Yes — yes, I’m convinced that you must have 
immediate change and rest. I’ll arrange and 
take you to Graycroft, and see you comfortably 
settled.” 

“How good you are — dear, dear Doctor,” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


275 


Gypta said, holding his hand in both of hers. 
‘‘In one week you have proved yourself my 
kindest and best friend in all the world. IVe 
no power to exercise my will. I want your guid- 
ance. I’m a stranger and all alone. I came 
with a purpose, but I can but rest and wait 
now. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER XXVI 


Graycroft in its deep seclusion was very old 
and very gray, and Gypta, whose sumptuous, 
glittering life 'had until late known but color and 
beauty, involuntarily shrank back as she was in- 
troduced into this house of cloister-like silence 
and gloom. 

‘^My dear child, said Dr. Geddings on tak- 
ing leave of Gypta, ‘‘you’ll soon get used to 
everything ; take my word for it. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Do you think such a thing possible. Doctor ? ’ ’ 
Gypta asked in a low, crooning voice as she 
clasped his hand timidly. 

“I think nothing about it. I know that in less 
than ten days you will be in love with the place, 
dull as it m-ay seem to vou now; and as for ray 
two old friends, why, you’re sure to grow fond of 
them. You may at first be clullod by what seems 
Mrs. Bailey’s cold formality, but the Lord never 
made a gentler, nobler woman. Proud? Yes; 
and she speaks with authority that compels obe- 
dience from every living creature on Graycroft 
plantation; but the people worship her, and you 
will find in her a sweet, faithful, motherly 
friend ; and the old colonel, bless you, he is the 
very soul of honor and grutf generosity. You 
will be shocked perhaps at the regularity with 
which Jerrold is called to brew a toddy or a 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


277 


julep, but soon you’ll get used to it. No man has 
ever seen Colonel Bailey in a state of intoxi- 
cation, but his julep and toddy are indispensable 
now in his mellowing old age. I can assure you 
these dear people are already grateful that I Ve 
brought them a bit of human sunshine and 
youth. Grod knows how little of either ever 
reaches them out here. ’ ’ 

‘‘Oh, Doctor, that sounds so desolate — I feel 
as if I had been left in the woods all alone, 
and — ” 

“Tut, tut! That’s because you’re nervous. 
I ’ll be out at the end of the week and see that my 
young patient is happy and well cared for. Will 
you be a good girl until then ? Put away morbid 
thoughts and live out under the trees. Make 
the best of all of this, child, for a month later, 
what’s now perfume and beauty will then be 
dank, miasmic and gruesome. Will you try 
to follow my instruction to the letter?” Dr. Ged- 
dings asked as he folded Gypta’s hand in his own 
with tender, fatherly solicitude. 

“Yes, Doctor, I will try my very best.” 

“And now, before I go, promise me you’ll not 
get homesick.” 

“Oh, Doctor, I promise you I’ll not be home- 
sick,” Gypta’s voice faltered. 

“There’s a good child; but remember what 
some folks say, ‘Home’s where the heart is.’ I’ll 
see you in less than a fortnight, but I must be off 
now. Bye-bye ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Homesick ! Oh 1 God, where is my home ? I ’m 


278 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


liomeless — I have no home save yonder with my 
mother and God in heaven — and yet — and yet 
‘ home is where the heart is, ’ that ’s what my phy- 
sician says — even he says that! Father above, 
I’m barred out from everywhere. Home and 
heaven shut their doors on me — indeed I’m an 
outcast ! Jesus, help me, ’ ’ and with a sob Gypta 
turned to watch the retreating figure of Dr. Ged- 
dings as he drove away. 

In some vague, indefinable way it seemed that 
in a previous existence she had inhaled that same 
odorous atmosphere, and from a far-off voyage 
to another world she had returned to where she 
naturally belonged; it was the coming home of 
the wanderer. The weird strains of the negroes ’ 
songs on returning from the rice fields, the in- 
sistent command of the whippoorwill and the ca- 
dence of the swishing waters were sounds she 
had heard before somewhere, yet she could not 
understand. 

Before a fortnight had passed the Doctor re- 
turned to Graycroft, and he was gratified to find 
that, true to his prediction, Gypta was stronger 
and more in harmony with her surroundings 
than he had even dared to hope for. 

The winds which at first had struck her with 
nervous awe, as in minor tones they moaned 
like lost spirits through the monastic oaks, now 
soothed and lulled her into sweet repose. The 
stillness, the intense, all pervading stillness, was 
gratifying to her. She felt as though a step had 
been taken in oblivion, where no one ever paused 
to recall or question who or what she was. 


CHAPTEE XXVII 


Colonel Adolph Bull Bailey, a heavy, generous 
specimen of the ante-bellum lowland planter, 
with his wife, a rare type of the old-South 
matron, were the sole occupants of Graycroft. 
Yet these two relics of a past civilization spent 
their life of isolation in the most perfect har- 
mony. A graduate of West Point, the old colo- 
nel was a stern disciplinarian. Beneath a 
rugged bluntness of voice and manner, and an 
ungovernable temper, was a sturdy courtliness, 
and a heart warm and tender as that of a woman, 
though it must be admitted the old colonel was 
a prolific swearer ; particularly was this polished 
profanity indulged in when a painful reminder 
of a wound he had received at the battle of Bull 
Eun jogged his memory, as it never failed to do 
when the moisture of a cloudy day on the wings 
of an east wind smote his left leg. At such times 
his language was neither pregnant with the en- 
gaging grace of the cavalier nor suggestive of a 
stolid allegiance to the stars and stripes of Old 
Glory. 

When swayed by the warm and mellow influ- 
ence of his favorite tipple, mint-julep, or maybe 
apple-toddy, the old colonel was not only genial, 
but cheery and loquacious, and should the occa- 
sion demand, suave and courtly. His eloquence 


280 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


readied its most sublime limit when the merits of 
Gray croft cellars were’under discussion, and for 
the hundredth time he had related to his guests 
how Jerroldjthe keeper of the seal and key of said 
cellars, had by the most masterly duplicity and 
diplomatic skill saved Graycroft vintage from 
Sherman’s soldiers during the general’s brief 
call in this part of Carolina. How he had sworn 
there hadn’t been a cask of wine in those walls 
since long before the war, and by way of com- 
promising hospitality invited the blue-coated 
gentlemen to the spring-house and the dairy to 
assuage their thirst on cold water and freshly 
churned buttermilk, while but a few paces away 
the liquors of rare vintage were mellowing into 
balmy thickness beneath the cobwebs of half a 
century and more. 

During these recitals Jerrold presided at the 
back of the old colonel’s chair, preserving the 
most di^ihed demeanor with conscious imi3or- 
tance, his head lifted, and his lips protruded by 
way of concealing the grin of grateful pride that 
he never ceased to feel when thus honored by his 
master. But if the guests chanced to glance over 
the rims of their glasses at the hero of the Gray- 
croft cellars, Jerrold could no longer preserve 
the gravity of demeanor that had heretofore 
cost him such an effort. It was of brief duration, 
and with small excuse ‘Go bring ’er new supply 
of hot water for de Tom an’ Jerry or de apple- 
toddy,” he would hie himself to the pantry, and 
scarce would the dbor close than with an explo- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


281 


sive outburst of laughter his bare brown head 
would sway to and fro with uncontrollable hi- 
larity. 

‘‘Now, thar^s you so proud like you laft an’ 
lalf,” Judy, the priestess of the kitchen, would 
say, kimbowing her arms on her ample sides and 
glancing from the corner of her eyes at the yield- 
ing dignity of old Jerry. 

‘I know what mauster’s been tellin,’ an’ you 
so proud — humph! Yo’ ain’ done nothin’ mo’ 
than wus yo ’ duty. I reckon I save de silver tea 
urn, an’ de set of silver waiters, an’ Miss 
Lou’s gole-lined punch-bowl, de same bowl 
you’se got in yo’ ban’ now, so I did, an’ I bury 
’um an’ sot on ’um, an’ make lak I had de rheu- 
matiz an’ couldn’ stir. One of de soldiers he 
say, ‘I reckon, sis, if I put dis chaw of tobacco 
on de other side of de yard, an’ tell ’em to git it, 
you gwine leap an ’ rmi ; but no, sar, I jis ’ groan 
an ’ groan till I seed de blue-coats gwine toward 
de big house ! ’ ’ 

Down came Jerry’s hand on his knees. 

“Sure, you’re right, Judy. I ricollict now 
dat’s de time dey go nosin’ bout mauster’s wine- 
cellar — he talk ’bout now to dem gen’l’men. One 
big blue-coat he look rat me an’ say, ‘ Coon, whar ’s 
de key to dat wine-cellar. Git it quick, fur I 
know de rebel dat own sich a house an’ cotton 
lands as dese he sure’d got de corn- juice right, 
he’s a grandee, sure.’ I look at ’im, den at de 
bunch of keys I bin tryin’ to hide. My knees be- 
gin to trimble an’ trimble. I make sho’ no Yan- 


282 


A SON OF GAKOLINA 


kee man gwine drink my manster liquors. ‘ No, 
sar,’ I say, ^ ain’t no wine been in dat cellar since 
ole mauster die, when I wus a boy. Manster Bull, 
his son, he don’ care fer no drink but de butter- 
milk an’ sich-like. No, sar, lime and cement is 
all in dem cellars ; but, boss, I tell you de fresh 
churned buttermilk is yonder at de spring- 
house — you’se welcome to dat.’ Lor’, dey just 
start ’er runnin ’ to dat dairy. 

‘‘Bless de Lord, Judy, gimme de hot water. I 
fergit whar’ I was, an’ de gen’l’men an’ mauster 
jis’ er sottin’ at de table waitin’.” 

“Ain’t I tell you so? — but you so proud-like 
you fergit yo’ business,” was Aunt Judy’s re- 
joinder. 

Mrs. Bull Bailey, with clear-cut features, dull, 
sweet eyes, and hair drawn back from a colorless 
face, was in appearance fragile and feminine to 
an eminent degree. Yet upon her the old colonel 
depended, and was utterly under the lead of her 
gentle, subtle influence; though the reins were 
so adroitly managed that he was entirely uncon- 
scious of his docile obedience and believed it was 
his power that dominated Graycroft from cellar 
to dome. These two were equally unrecon- 
structed, and while the serene nature and reli- 
gious training restrained her real impulses, her 
husband’s idiosyncrasies were marked in a dif- 
ferent way. He was neither religious nor se- 
rene, and he lost no opportunity of expressing 
his views on certain subjects in the most forcible 
terms possible. He was tireless in reviving the 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


283 


topic of tlie war and fighting the battles over 
again. With a patience born of habit and a pas- 
sive tolerance of her husband’s hobbies, Mrs. 
Bailey would sit with her knitting and hear him 
affirm for the hundredth time that had Beaure- 
gard followed up his first victory at Bull Run 
and captured Washington, and held it, that the 
war would have ended by compromise. Bull 
Run was his pet hobby, and when that siege be- 
gan his wife usually sank deeper in her chair 
and added to her supply of knitting wool. 

The colonel had finished dinner and retired to 
the shade of the long porch. With a well-sea- 
soned merschaum and near at hand a pitcher of 
apple-toddy, the mellow roasted fruit fioating 
on the surface of the divine tipple, he sat him- 
self on an ample hickory rocker to enjoy his us- 
ual smoke and doze through the soft afternoon. 
As the toddy kindly and liberally circulated 
through his veins his wife approached with the 
letter from Dr. Greddings, wherein he stated his 
desire and most urgent request that Miss Pres- 
cott, his young patient, should find a home with 
them during the month of May. 

‘‘Great Scott! What does Geddings mean! 
From the North, he mildly hints. But in plain 
English, Martha, I assert the woman is some 
Yankee school-marm and wants to come out here 
to put the Devil in the head of the niggers. Damn 
it ! she can ’t come ! That ’s all I ’ve got to say, ’ ’ 
and a liberal sip of toddy washed down this de- 
cision. 


284 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


‘‘Seems mighty strange why such a person 
couldn^t find some other place for nervous pros- 
tration and the like. Why, Martha, you know 
there’s no sense in a young woman wanting to 
come out here where there are one hundred 
blacks to a dozen whites. What does she care for 
rice-fields and sea-island cotton 1 Humph ! Ged- 
dings for the first time since I’ve known him, 
and that’s forty years at least, isn’t it Martha!” 

“I think so, William, was the mild response. 

“Well yes, just about; and according to my 
knowledge it’s the first time a woman has ever 
thrown dust in his eyes.” Here he shook the 
glass, causing the succulent apple to dance lan- 
guidly in the mellow beverage as his lips slowly 
drew in another sip, which ended with a smack 
of satisfaction. 

‘ ‘ Thank God, Martha, nobody can throw dust 
in our eyes, eh ! ” 

‘ ‘ Oh, William, I think you are misjudging our 
dear doctor. You know very well that though, 
as you say, the lady is a school-marm with a 
twang, as twangy as the falling of railroad irons, 
and though she wears a number eight shoe and 
rimless glasses, and all that, we must not w^ound 
our best friend, the doctor, by refusing to receive 
her. Yes, I’ll write at once and tell her to come. ’ ’ 

“Well, Martha, I suppose you’re about right. 
We may be sure Geddings wouldn‘t be apt to 
send any such patient here. He is sufficiently 
acquainted with us to be aware of her reception 
were she a full-fledged Yankee. Her improve- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


285 


ment might be somewhat retarded. Yes, Martha, 
you are always right. Geddings would send no 
one to us who is not all he represents her — beau- 
tiful — cultured — and — but damn it, Martha, a 
Yankee ! a Yankee ! Didn’t he say that in plain 
words — here let’s see,” and fumbling in his 
pocket for his glasses, exclaimed, as usual rely- 
ing on his wife, Pshaw! Alartha, read what 
he says. Certainly, certainly, just as I said; a 
Yankee school-marm, no doubt. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Bailey, after reading the letter, folded it 
calmly and placed it on her lap. 

‘‘William, he says she is from the North, 
that’s all, now, we cannot refuse. I guess we’d 
better let the young woman come, and try and 
make her just as happy and comfortable as pos- 
sible.” 

“Yes, Martha, I think so too. Graycroft has 
never yet lacked hospitality, and it’s not apt to 
close its doors on any one at this late day.” 
Here the apple bobbed up, then down, and set- 
tled at the bottom of the empty glass. 


CHAPTEE XXVIII 


The old colonel crushed the sugar in his glass, 
carefully pushing aside the spray of mint, took 
another sip of julep, and with a nod toward the 
far end of the piazza remarked in an under- 
tone to his wife, that after all Geddings’s school- 
marm was not such a terror. 

Mrs. Bailey, without raising her eyes from her 
knitting, glanced aside now toward Gypta, who 
leaned back in a big hickory arm-chair, where 
the warm glow of the western light fell full upon 
her upturned face. 

‘‘Not much of the Yankee about her, eh, 
Martha ? ^ ’ the colonel said, with a sly twinkle in 
his eye, and a half-humorous expression. 

“Now, William, even in jest, it seems a sacri- 
lege to associate those two horrid names with 
such a dear, lovely girl. She is not only gentle 
and intelligent, but she’s a true lady in every 
sense of the word — just look at her now, and 
tell me if you’ve ever seen as rarely beautiful a 
face?” Here Mrs. Bailey clasped her delicate 
hands over the ball of yarn on her lap and medi- 
tated for a moment, as her full glance now rested 
on Gypta, who was quietly enjoying the repose 
and enchantment of her surroundings, ignorant 
of the fact that at the moment she was under the 
critical analysis of her two old friends. 


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287 


‘ ‘ My heart and sympathy go out to her, ’ ’ Mrs. 
Bailey continued. ‘ ^ I don ’t know why, hut some- 
how she makes me sad to watch her — as if there 
was some grief in her life. She has such a 
lonely look that at times I want to take her in my 
arms and let her cry out all the tears I see in 
those big mournful eyes. No, William, I cannot 
think there ^s one drop of Yankee blood in that 
girPs veins.’’ 

‘ ‘ Doesn ’t look so to me ; but Geddings said she 
was from the North, you remember, and Ged- 
dings must know. Now, she may be related to 
our Prescotts. Did you ever ask her if she had 
any Southern kin 1 ’ ’ and the old colonel gave an 
interrogatory glance over the rim of his tumbler. 

blush to admit that at times I’ve been on 
the questioning edge of rudeness to satisfy, I 
won’t say my curiosity, William, but my deep 
interest in the girl, but so far I’ve never gone be- 
yond the thought,” and Mrs. Bailey drew the 
scarf closer about her frail shoulders, while the 
colonel regarded her with a look of admiration 
and amusement. 

^‘No, I’ve never questioned her; but I’m con- 
vinced Miss Prescott is no more a Northern 
woman than I am — and I believe she belongs to 
the Prescotts of Deerhurst. Now that’s my 
opinion.” This Mrs. Bailey said in slow, meas- 
ured words, as with an unconscious gesture of 
finality she brought down her hand on her hus- 
band’s knee. 

‘‘At times she reminds me,” Mrs. Bailey went 


288 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


on to say, ‘‘of Marion Prescott. She has the 
same proud, leisurely, curving movements, 
though Marion ^s features were clear-cut as a 
pearl carving and she was very fair. Miss Pres- 
cott is a Creole in coloring. I don ’t recall a dark 
Prescott, do you, William 

The old colonel looked out toward the river, 
and tapped his chin a moment as though in deep 
thought. 

“Well, I canT say that I do, since you men- 
tion it ; but there was my old friend Ashley Pres- 
cott of Deerhurst, the handsomest man in the 
parish; he was pretty dark. But you are right, 
Martha, the Prescotts are generally a gray-eyed, 
clear-skinned race ; but I swear the way this girl 
sits a horse she’s every inch a Prescott. Every 
one of the family born and raised from the San- 
tee to the Ashley region sat a horse like an Orat 
chief, and could drive anything on the face of 
creation.” 

“William, IVe something to ask you,” Mrs. 
Bailey said after a few moment’s pause, and her 
voice dropped to a lower key. 

‘ ‘ What is it, my dear ! ” he questioned, looking 
at his wife keenly from under his bushy eye- 
brows. 

“Do you think it entirely safe for a young 
woman to ride alone through the country as 
Gypta Prescott’s in the habit of doing? Remem- 
ber, the conditions are different from what they 
once were. I do not think it wise or prudent. 
Do you not think I’d better advise her on the 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


289 


‘ subject! Poor child, she doesn’t know,” and a 
shade of anxiety passed over Mrs. Bailey’s 
sweet, gentle face. 

‘‘Most assuredly! Most assuredly, do so, 
Martha. You’re right, I’ve thought the same 
thing ; but the girl seems as if she’s not afraid of 
anything on God’s earth, and Geddings begged 
that we would encourage her to live in the open 
air as much as possible, and have plenty of exer- 
cise; she surely has had both since she’s been 
here. ’ ’ 

As the days passed sweetly and calmly by, 
Gypta was growing very fond of this old couple 
and their venerable, isolated home. She had 
thrown aside to a marked extent her reticence 
and reserve, and in little more than a fortnight 
had become a charming necessity to the inmates 
of Graycroft. To her poor lonely heart, Mrs. 
Bailey with her gentle dignity and sweet, motJi- 
erly solicitude was a grateful solace and 
strength, while the old colonel with liis compos- 
ite personality, and strange contradictions, af- 
forded her an endless source of amusement and 
entertainment. 

“It is the first time in all my life I’ve known 
the meaning of home,” thought Gypta as they 
sat beneath the vine-wreathed porch, where tea 
was served during the soft May evenings. Uncle 
Jerrold with silent padding step approached 
with the spacious silver tray wreathed in a mist 
of silvery steam from the fragrant tea. Heaped 
in crisp pyramids were curl wafers, brown as a 


290 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


berry, and spiral as a ringlet. There were bis- 
cuits and bread beaten to a flake, and preserves 
and jellies, and water-melon citron, as clear as 
amber, and so transparent that with triumph 
Aunt Judy had declared ‘‘was glassy- like enuf 
to see yo ^self through. ’ ’ 

This life was restful and beyond what Gypta 
had ever dreamed of, especially as she rode in 
the early mornings under the shadowy solitude 
of cathedral-like trees, with nothing to hear save 
the rustle of the foliage filled with the soft move- 
ments and music of young birds, or the lulling 
cadence of the swish of the distant waters filter- 
ing through the cane and rice lands, and the 
dreamy hum of bees as they drowned their rav- 
ishing greed in the chalice of flowers that sat- 
urated the air with voluptuous odor. Often in 
these rides Gypta passed the negroes on their 
way to the fields. They invariably stepped aside 
with a “Mornin^, Missus,’’ and an humble 
courtesy. 

“Colonel,” said Gypta one evening as a crowd 
of negroes passed the house on their way to the 
rice-fields, “do I see in the negroes of this sec- 
tion the real type of the African? Do these 
leather-skinned, thick-lipped, brawny creatures 
represent the best element of colored people in 
the South? Are all the race like these I see 
here, laborers who are black and ignorant? I 
mean, colonel, are there not negroes of culture 
with a high standard of morality and education ? 
Must the negro forever be a menial?” and her 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


201 


eyes grew humid and earnest, as she leaned to- 
ward Colonel Bailey, who at this sudden inquiry 
sat upright and turned his blinking eyes full 
upon here. 

‘‘Now, do you mean to say. Miss Prescott, 
you’re as ignorant of the negro race as to ask 
that question?” 

Gypta winced and nervously fingered her rid- 
ing-whip that lay on her lap. 

‘ ‘ Colonel Bailey, you should not be surprised 
at my question. Please remember I Ve only been 
in the South but a short while. My principal ob- 
ject in coming is to study the character and con- 
dition of the colored race. ’ ’ 

“My God, you’re not after all a school- 
marm, a Yankee, like the rest?” the old colonel 
exclaimed in an explosive voice, the veins about 
his throat rising like whip-cords. “Wait a min- 
ute, I’ll just call Martha, Mrs. Bailey, my wife, 
I mean — just ’er moment, Madame.” He was 
rising with a quick, heavy etfort in order to 
break the news upon the unsuspecting Mrs. 
Bailey, when Gypta placed her hand upon his 
shoulder, forcing him back into his seat. 

“My dear Colonel Bailey, do not misunder- 
stand me. What was it I said that has excited 
you so? I’m only what I’ve seemed, I scarcely 
know what you mean by a school-marm. I’ve 
never really seen one, and do not know their 
mission. I — I — ” Gypta faltered. 

“Well, now, I declare! Yes, Miss Prescott, 
yes I’m a damn fool — excuse me, I mean I’m a 


292 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


bit nervous. The trouble is, I missed my mint- 
julep this morning, for the first time in twenty 
years. J errold bruised the leaves — and — well, you 
donT know what that means, but every Southern 
woman bred in the right school would know 
that to bruise the leaves in a julep ruins the julep 
and puts the devil in the would-be drinker. Ha, 
ha! AVhy, Miss Prescott, I well remember my 
father once sent to the cotton-fields his head but- 
ler because he would persist in mashing the mint 
stems, leaves and all. ‘Joe,’ said he, ‘go and 
hoe cotton, that’s all you’re good for.’ Yes, you 
know I missed my julep, and — and — Ah, well, 
I see you’re smiling at the poor old fool that I 
am. Why, you’re no more like a Yankee school- 
marm, than Beppo’s like that mule over yonder 
that nigger’s riding. I hope you’ll pardon me. 
Miss Prescott,” and the old colonel rubbed his 
hands together vigorously, a habit he indulged 
in when under agitation or embarrassment. 

“Why, my dear colonel, what have I to par- 
don! You did not say anything to wound me, 
did you!” 

“Good Lord, child! I called you a Yankee 
school-marm. Didn’t you hear me — a school- 
marm ! I swear — I mean I declare ! ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Is that such a dreadful insult, colonel ! ’ ’ 

“Most certainly it is; but we won’t go into 
particulars now. I’ll get my wife to tell you all 
about two of these women who came down this 
way to grapple with the poor devils and educate 
them, and evangelize them, and all such non- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


293 


sense. She ’ll tell yon. I ’m calm now, and I pre- 
fer not getting heated up again.” 

Very well, colonel,” Gypta said in her sweet, 
reassuring way. ‘‘We won’t get excited, and 1 
want to assure you of my utter ignorance on the 
negro subject. As I have told you, before com- 
ing South I’d never spoken to more than a half- 
dozen colored people in all my life. In my trav- 
els heretofore I’ve made a study of every phase 
of domestic and social life, among the people 
with whom I came in contact ; for instance, I ’ve 
spent days and nights in the cotter’s home in 
the north of Scotland, and in the south of France 
I went among the gleaners and grape gatherers 
in the vineyards, and once in the Tyrol I visited 
an old peasant’s home, and learned straw ]Dlait- 
ing from the grandmother, and played games 
with the children. Someway I love to get near 
to the home-life of the poor people. ’ ’ 

The old colonel pursed his lips and nodded liis 
head thoughtfully. There was an interval of si- 
lence. Gypta was searching his face eagerly. 
There were some things she wished settled in 
her mind then and forever. 

‘ ‘ Colonel, you haven ’t answered my question, ’ ’ 
Gypta said, anxious to fasten his mind on a sub- 
ject that had become to her of such vital im- 
portance. 

“H’m?” he grunted in a tone of interroga- 
tion. 

‘ ‘ Do you not think the negro with proper ad- 
vantages is capable of occupying a higher plane 


294 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


thnn that of ‘hewers of wood and drawers of 
Abater, ’ as the Good Book puts it ? Do you think 
they must forever toil and dig as slaves of hum- 
ble drudgery? I ask this for information. I’m 
keeping a little note-book about my visit South, 
you see. ’ ’ 

“H’m!” and the old colonel placed himself 
firmly in the chair. 

“My dear young lady, now you may write this 
in your little book and underline it three times in 
red marks. By one who kno2VS. Now, I think 
when I tell you that for more than forty years 
I’ve owned and come in daily contact with one 
thousand slaves, you will agree that I have 
served an apprenticeship which qualifies me to 
speak with authority. I have had long enough 
experience with the negro race to claim certain 
knowledge of the processes of its growth, devel- 
opment, and limitations. In my long contact 
with them I’ve learned the art of dealing with 
them and maintaining conditions of mutual ad- 
vantage and preserving the most perfect accord. 
Now, I assert that the South is the only part of 
the country that understands the negro. Why, 
my dear Miss Prescott, the good Lord in His 
work of creation adapted each people to its suit- 
able environment. He made the South, the land 
of corn and cotton, which products mature to 
perfect fruition only under Southern suns, and 
in doing this, by His divine methods He brought 
to us the negro, who is essentially a man of toil, 
to till and dig and reap. His skull was made 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


295 


hard and strong as the shell to the cocoanut, so 
as to resist the blaze of the mid-day sun ; and the 
soles of his feet are shod in sandals of tough 
leathery skin that they might tramp the rough 
furrows and rocky ways. He is our human mule, 
and is just about as capable of bringing his brain 
force to a higher plane as the said mule is able to 
enter the turf and put his speed against that of 
a blooded racer. Now, my dear young lady, you 
have only to go to your history to find that since 
the creation of the world the negro has always 
been a menial. The record of every nationality 
of ancient times, sustained by our own experi- 
ence with the negro in the United States, is that 
the white must be master of the negro, else the 
two races can never live together in peace. This 
is the law of God, and it has cost every nation of 
ancient times its existence that dared to violate 
tills law. And you may also write this in your 
little book that when left alone the negro is as 
happy and trustful a race as can be found under 
heaven. The Northern mind is absolutely in- 
capable of understanding the harmonious condi- 
tions under which we have lived. Their preju- 
diced, Pharisaical nonsense in sending down 
among us wolves in sheep’s clothing to educate 
and evangelize the ‘poor down-trodden negro’ 
has done more than aught else to break up his 
happy-go-lucky life by putting the poison of a 
false ambition in Ins mind and playing the devil 
generally. Damn ’em ! All we want is to be left 
alone ! ’ ’ 


296 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Here tlie old colonel choked and coughed in 
embarrassment. 

‘‘Pardon me, I forgot, and for the moment 
thought I was on the stump at a political meet- 
ing; but I mean just what I say, and no use to 
try and put it in more polished language. Youdl 
excuse me, I’m sure you’re now used to my pe- 
culiar mode of delivering my opinions. It ’s just 
my way, and, hang it ! I ’m too old to modify my 
utterances. Jerrold,” the old colonel called 
loudly, “two juleps, and, Jerrold, hear me! 
Don’t you bruise the mint.” 

“Now, heah mauster,” and elerrold drew him- 
self up with injured dignity. ‘ ‘ He know I ain ’t 
gwine mash der mint leaves nor der stems. I 
bin make ’em julep all of forty year or mo’, an’ 
he still tell me dat ’ar advice, like I ain’ never 
I’arn.” 

This the old servant said to himself as he 
courtseyed low and turned toward the mint plot 
that grew luxuriously near the garden wall. 

“Colonel, do I tire you with my questions?” 
No? Then thank you so much. May I ask just 
one more ? It is rather a delicate subject, but as 
I’ve told you, I’m anxious to learn everything I 
can in the short while I’m here, of this race 
problem.” 

“Ask just as many questions as you please, 
my dear young friend. It does me good to know 
that you will carry with you absolute facts and 
not the distorted prejudiced views that most 
Northern people persist in absorbing from fal- 


A SON OP CAROLINA 


297 


lacious information. Now, what is it you wish 
to knowT^ and Colonel Bailey clasped his hands 
clumsily and protruded his chin with an air of 
attention. 

^‘Colonel, I want you to tell me the exact posi- 
tion a person of mixed blood occupies among the 
best people of the South. ’ ’ 

‘ ‘ Mulattoes, you mean 1 ^ ’ Colonel Bailey asked 
abruptly. 

‘^Not exactly — I mean one in which the white 
blood predominates to a very great extent, so 
much so that it is in no way traceable. Could 
not a person so slightly tainted, under favorable 
conditions, occupy an equal position with the 
best class of whites!’^ 

‘ ‘ Never ! ^ ^ ejaculated Colonel Bailey, bringing 
down his hand heavily on the arm of his chair. 
^ ‘Never!’’ he repeated. “Though that person 
had the most towering intellect, the most bound- 
less genius, the result is the same. With us every 
individual whose kin is white, or relatively so, is 
recognized as pure white ; but should it be known 
that he or she were of negro extraction, without 
reference to complexion, superior intelligence or 
anything else, they are recognized as negroes. 
The smallest taint of the negro blood brands on 
them the curse of amalgamation which is the vio- 
lation of God’s law.” 

Gypta sank back and closed her eyes. Her 
face was pallid and she bit her lips nervously. A 
pang was at her heart. The doubts that had 
harassed her were not void of hope. What she 


298 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


had just listened to was a repetition of what she 
had heard from Baxter ^s lips. There could he 
no more doubt, and the last glimmer of hope 
went down as a pale, quivering star in the black- 
ness of an eternal night. The full force of her 
degradation had never so poignantly assailed 
her. 

Fortunately, Colonel Bailey having caught 
sight of Jerrold’s advancing figure, his atten- 
tion was diverted for the moment to that worthy 
tray-bearer, and the effect his words had on 
Gypta was not noticed by him. 

‘^Ah! by that aroma I know the rascal hasn’t 
bruised the mint ; but as I was saying — ” 

Here Gypta arose. Thank you. Colonel 
Bailey, no julep for me — no, nothing at all ; and 
oh! I’m so grateful for all the information 
you’ve given me. Yes, I’ll note it in my little 
book.” Here she paused, and smiled sadly as 
Colonel Bailey pressed her to have just one sip 
from the glass which he gallantly extended to 
her. 

‘‘Just one sip then. I can resist neither your 
gallantry, colonel, nor the delicious pungency of 
this nectar,” and she held the glass to her lips; 
the fresh julep and fragrant leaves brushing her 
cheek revived her for the moment. 

“I’m not surprised you Southern people make 
so much over your mint- julep. You see that too, 
is something new to me. Ah! how much we 
have to learn — eh. Colonel!” and with well-as- 
sumed gaiety she threw a smiling glance at her 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


299 


genial host, and passed down the long porch, 
then up stairs to her room. Throwing herself 
upon the lounge, face downward, she burst into a 
flood of tears. She was not only homeless, but 
she was a product of the violation of God^s law. 
To belong to a people who toiled in the field and 
furrow as their birthright, was terrible, but to 
bear the brand of the curse was omnipresent and 
irrevocable. There was nothing more for her to 
bear. It was as though she had gone on, on, on, 
the quicksand beneath her gradually lowering 
until she was plunged into the dense blackness 
of the most hopeless night. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


do not think it prudent or safe for you to 
ride alone as you do, my child. Conditions are 
so different from what they once were in the old 
days. I mean you should never leave the main 
road; I see by those hay blossoms youVe been 
in the Ashley River jungles. 

‘‘Why, dear Mrs. Bailey, my spoils have found 
me out, so I ’ll have to confess, ’ ’ and Gypta held 
aloft her arms full of vines and flowers. 

“Take these, Peggy, and be sure you give 
them plenty of water. They are used to water, 
you know. ’ ’ 

“Yes, ma’am,” said the maid; “but. Missus, 
this yallar jassamine is pisen if you ain’ sure to 
keep it out of yo ’ mouth. I never see de like, ’ ’ 
Peggy mumbled as she made her way up stairs. 

‘ ‘ Missis Gyp, she mus ’ sure be fond-like of dese 
pisen blossoms. Every day she come an’ trash 
up her room wid de dry-like stems an’ leaves, 
for de flowers done drap, dey day is over now; 
but she ’pears to be satisfied wid de vines. Now, 
dese bay blossoms is somethin’ like, but de Lord 
only know what Miss Gyp want all dis trash 
fer.” Thus she mumbled as her brown hands 
moved deftly among the tangle of vines. 

“Why, Mrs. Bailey, do you think it dangerous 
for me to ride through the woods ? They are so 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


301 


quiet and restful, wliat can harm me? Surely, 
there are no wild beasts or hobgoblins, ^ ^ and 
Gypta swayed her riding- whip to and fro as she 
glanced with a smile at Mrs. Bailey, whose white 
face was serious to sternness. 

‘‘How little you know, my child,’’ and Mrs. 
Bailey lowered her voice. ‘ ‘ Only this morning a 
terrible story of crime has come to us, one I 
dislike to pollute your innocence by retailing, 
yet it is but right that you should know.” 

Gypta shuddered as she listened. In a low, 
awed voice Mrs. Bailey told of a heinous crime 
committed only a few miles distant. How a lit- 
tle child who was gathering berries in a lonely 
wood had been fiendishly murdered. 

“Oh! Mrs. Bailey, I supposed such crimes 
were enacted only in savage lands, where they 
burn and eat each other, ’ ’ and Gypta buried her 
face in her hands. 

‘ The blood of the savage is still in the veins of 
the negroes, my dear,” Mrs. Bailey continued 
calmly. “We have civilized them to an extent, 
and while under bondage their brutal nature is 
subjugated, but since emancipation they are 
gradually asserting their natural instincts. Such 
terrible crimes as I’ve told you of are perpe- 
trated by the younger generation. The old- 
South negro, who represents the South of law 
and order, condemns the brutality and vicious- 
ness of such crimes as we condemn them. The 
war with its conquering results has proved a 
great calamity to the race. Like lost children 


302 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


the poor deluded creatures are wandering from 
pillar to post. As old Joseph, the coachman, 
said to me the other day, after attending a meet- 
ing where the blessing of freedom had been dis- 
cussed by the negro parson, ‘Missus, dey talk 
^bout freedom an^ all it^s dun for de nigger. I 
how it only lead ’em on like de jack’er lanton 
an’ make ’em h’lieve he gwine lead ’em some- 
whar, an’ when he start he keep trompin’ an’ ’er 
trompin’ in de swamp an’ de marsh an’ tindin’ 
nothin ’ an ’ nowhar. ’ ’ ’ 

It appeared to Gypta that each day revealed 
a new phase in the character of her people, and 
she was stupefied by this last blow. A physical 
terror came down upon her, a monster fear had 
seized her, and as she took her usual ride the 
following day she dared not leave the public 
road. The dense woody retreats in which she 
had found such solace and repose and which had 
seemed to generate a narcotic and in some way 
assuage the medley of her sufferings, now be- 
came haunts of terror, where some savage, law- 
less beast might crouch and await its innocent 
prey. Although a woman not given to foolish 
fears, her nerves had been overwrought by what 
Mrs. Bailey had told her, and now as she gal- 
loped swiftly down the broad, forest-fringed 
road, tremblings passed over her, and a feeling 
of conquering despair throbbed in her heart with 
terrible insistence. She now found herself spec- 
ulating on what life would be like when she had 
gone from Graycroft. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


303 


The air, though fragrant and balmy, had a 
subtle reminder of increasing inertia and mid- 
summer warmth. She knew that soon she must 
go. ‘‘Go where! Go where!^^ she repeated to 
the rhythmic pounding of the horse’s hoofs. 
With these speculations she slackened her pace, 
then suddenly halted on hearing the sound of 
approaching voices. Ominous and hideous and 
clamorous was the sound as it swelled louder 
and louder. 

“Oh, my God! what is it!” Gypta moaned, a 
sickening sense of fear almost causing her to 
reel backward. Suddenly she recovered herself 
with the reassuring thought that it was ‘ ‘ Carni- 
val Week” in Charleston, and this probably was 
a crowd of ritf-raff revelers returning home. 

Nearer came the muffled sound of shuffling, 
hurrying feet, witli yells of triumph. 

“We must get out of sight, Beppo,” Gypta 
said, riding a few paces back from the road, un- 
der cover of the thick, overhanging foliage. 

“Beppo, we can see now and not be seen,” 
Gypta said, stroking her horse ’s head gently. 

“Now, don’t neigh or jump, do you under- 
stand!” 

Beppo turned his head and gave a gentle 
stamp by way of reply. 

As the voices came nearer Gypta peered 
through the interlacing branches and saw that 
the crowd was no home-coming of merrymakers, 
but something that made her shudder with ter- 
ror. 


304 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


A hundred or more men of varying ages were 
marching en masse y some jumping and gesticu- 
lating wildly, while others, evil-browed, mut- 
tered oaths and with bowed heads trod on with 
impatient, determined steps. Heading the crowd 
a tall, brawny man with bared head bore in his 
arms a child. Gypta parted the leaves, through 
which she caught a glimpse of a tangle of yellow 
hair and a little white face, and dimpled bare 
limbs besmirched with blood. 

Amid moans and yells, a man’s voice ascended 
above the balance of sound. 

‘ ‘ Come, boys, and while his head is sizzing and 
the beast is roasting, let his eyes rest on the 
cause for which he dies. Hurry on. Oil and 
matches will be our judge and jurors. They’ll 
decide this case.” AVith renewed yells, the 
crowd quickened their pace, as a tall, dark fig- 
ure, bound head and foot, reeled and tottered 
in his effort to walk. 

In a vague way Gypta divined the terror of 
the thing. As though she were herself in peril, 
she shivered and trembled, and prayed. ^‘Oh, 
God! Get me out of this,” she murmured, as 
she saw that within a hundred yards the crowd 
had turned from the road and entered the woods, 
where they halted. 

A mocking-bird whirled from the thicket with 
its caroling song. A bevy of gray squirrels chat- 
tered saucily in defiance as they scattered amid 
the tree-tops like bits of living silver. 

^‘Here’s a stump spouting with resin, just the 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


305 


place exactly. Bring him, boys. First soak his 

wool, then his d body! Not too much oil, 

we don’t want it over too soon. There, fasten 
him ! Now, Major, hold the child np ; yes, about 
there; now, that’s right. Brute, look at that 
little white angel. Did you ever see her before*? 
No, don’t turn your eyes one inch, or you’ll have 
no eyes to move. Ha 1 Ha ! ’ ’ 

Here a voice that sounded like the old colo- 
nel’s demanded silence. 

‘ ^ Men, I want to speak a word ! In the pres- 
ence of Almighty God I voice what I believe is 
the sentiment of every man present. I regard 
this the greatest blot that defames our land — 
the necessity of this savage-like retribution. It 
savors of heathen lands, and is not in keeping 
with our proud Commonwealth. Yes! hut the 
lust of the fiend will ever meet this vengeance. 
This is the only solution of the law’s delay. Our 
women and our children shall be sacred and se- 
cure; so long as the lust of the savage assails 
virtue and innocence, so long will the roads echo 
with the tramp of the lyncher and the moan of 
the victim. Strike the match, boys, and apply 
the torch ! ’ ’ 

Gypta had tried in vain to move, but a paraly- 
sis of fear rendered her helpless. She reeled and 
a dry sob shook her. She read the terrible, ma- 
lignant truth. Beppo stamped the ground im- 
patiently as if to signal his willingness to move. 

‘ ‘ Fly, Beppo ! Fly ! ’ ’ she muttered as she arose 
in her saddle and leaned forward, at the same 


306 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


moment giving reins to her horse, who sniffed 
the air and plunged from the woods into the 
road, then shot himself forward with all his 
thoroughbred speed. Gypta looked back but 
once, then with a shudder closed her eyes and 
dropped her head upon her breast as she saw 
creeping lazily above the trees a sluggish, blue- 
black coil of smoke. She knew it was the smoke 
from the burning flesh and blood of a human 
being, whose dying gaze was fixed on innocence 
and childhood, the victim of his own fiendish 
crime. This writhing, sin-cursed serpent of 
smoke, oozing from the hissing flames of the 
burning body, creeps up, up, through the balmy 
sun-kissed air, above the rice-fields laden with 
harvest, above the cotton lands that lavishly 
marked the people’s increasing wealth, up 
through the maze of ripening fruits and wind- 
tossed blossoms — this black serpent with fiend- 
ish abandonment crawls up, up! scarring and 
cursing and defaming this second Eden. 


CHAPTER XXX 


Although Gypta was agitated to the point of 
fever and delirium, she told no one of the terri- 
ble experience through which she had passed. 
It seemed that destiny had led her to the spot 
and trapped her so that she might better under- 
stand the character of the people to whom by a 
strain of blood she belonged. The thing was ap- 
palling. She lost every hope of delivering her 
race or aiding them to a higher sphere of devel- 
opment. She had made a careful and unpreju- 
diced study of the matter; both sides, for and 
against, she scrupulously weighed, and the bal- 
ance she fairly struck. This she had done by 
the severe exercise of unimpassioned and un- 
prejudiced reason and her verdict was reached. 
She knew her hope was a delusion and the negro 
was happiest when following the life for which 
God had prepared him. She decided that a false 
ambition clogged the progress of the plowshare 
and made heavy the hoe. It robbed the little log- 
cabin of its homely charm and caused the vul- 
tures of discontent and the demon of vice to 
brood over every clod of the unturned fallow. 

Swayed by these thoughts and with a step far 
lighter than her heart, Gypta paced up and down 
the long piazza. 

^H’m going away,^^ she said to herself. 


308 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘ ‘ There ’s nothing else for me here ; my people 
do the things that cause savagery in this beauti- 
ful land to be substituted for civilization. By 
active demonstrations that I have witnessed Ihn 
convinced I must find a future where I can to an 
extent escape the tangle of a doom that winds 
me and binds me in an impenetrable cordon of 
infamy. I breathe the delicious balmy air of my 
native land, while my blood drags its fatal drop 
through my veins, black and sullen. It puts 
poison in the ozone, it taints the entire face of 
this land with the miasmic breath. Go where I will, 
the plague, fatal as that of the leper, will shadow 
my every step ; but here ! here ! it is hardest to 
bear. I see the life I crave and instinctively 
love, and yet I^m an alien. I’m conscious of it 
every hour. I now renounce all effort or hope to 
elevate the race to which I belong. I’m forever 
done with the multitudinous cant which is writ- 
ten and discussed about the possibilities of the 
race. The old colonel, who is a friend of the ne- 
groes, gauges the subject right when he says, 
when left to follow the purpose for which God 
made them, they are useful and happy. Let us 
teach them Jesus Christ and the mercy and love 
of God, but have pity upon the poor creatures 
and put no false ideas into their heads by thrust- 
ing them into the school-house or firing their am- 
bition with the liberty of the ballot. Yes, 
Colonel Bailey is right. ’ ’ 

Here Gypta paused at the end of the piazza 


A SON OP CAKOLINA 


309 


where the old colonel sat, and gave him an ear- 
nest look of commendation and approval. 

’Pon my word, Miss Oypta, I believe you’re 
getting tired of us; you look somewhat bored 
and serious to-day. Now, I’ll order you an ap- 
ple-toddy or a julep. Either of these beverages, 
as I know by long experience, has a tendency to 
give one optimistic views and turn gray clouds 
into rainbow rims. That’s quite original, I 
assure you ; the poetical side of my nature will 
flop out occasionally, eh, Martha T’ and Colonel 
Bailey laughed long and heartily. 

Mrs. Bailey, with a serene smile gazed at Gyp- 
ta from above the nubia on which she was knit- 
ting. 

^‘Yes, dear, you do look a little fatigued; and 
while you never have much color, save in your 
lips, to-day they do not look as they generally 
do, moist and scarlet like an over ripe pome- 
granate. Your lips have always made me think 
of a pomegranate, and yet your skin is so creamy 
and colorless.” 

Gypta started as if stung by sudden pain. The 
gentle remark of the sweet old lady recalled 
Mrs. Levering ’s favorite and set speech she used 
to repeat to her guests of what Le Clare had said 
while painting her portrait. She felt as if icy 
fingers had gripped her heart and violently 
shaken it; she grew faint for a second, but re- 
gained composure. 

Colonel Bailey chuckled as his eyes twinkled 
with amusement at his wife ’s simile. 


310 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


‘‘Now, as I was saying, I^m afraid your stay 
with ns is very prosaic for a young person who 
evidently has been accustomed to much gaiety ; 
but you will scarcely believe me when I tell you 
this secluded section, that is far removed from 
the shriek of the locomotive and the bustle of the 
city, was before the war noted throughout the 
South for its elegant hospitality and social gath- 
erings. Why, over at Magnolia Hall the house- 
parties of the Baxters were absolutely royal. 
For weeks there would be a round of luxurious 
living and refined revelry, if I may so put it,^^ 
and a whiff of smoke went zigzag from Colonel 
Bailey ^s pipe, which for a moment screened the 
pallor that overspread Gypta’s face as she sank 
into a big chair fortunately placed so that her 
back was partially turned to the colonel, who 
was in a reminiscent mood. 

“Oh, yes,’’ he continued, “well do I remember 
those times. The Prestons and Hamptons and 
Singletons from Columbia, the Butlers and 
Garys and Pickens from Edgefield, all used to 
come down for a few weeks every season, and 
such riding and driving and dancing and ban- 
queting I’ve never seen before or since.” 

“ Yes, William, and Governor Pickens and his 
young wife, the ‘Queen of the Confederacy’ the 
South named her. She was certainly charming 
and merited that name, for she was a woman of 
marvelous grace and beauty, and as tactful as a 
social diplomatist, which she was, without 
doubt. ’ ’ 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


311 


assented the old colonel with a grunt, 
^^and I wish to the Lord my twenty thousand 
dollars in Confederate bills containing her like- 
ness could be redeemed at the full value. Where 
is all of our Confederate money, Martha, any- 
way? I^m sure at the close of the war I had 
enough to paper the walls of that smoking- 
room.^^ 

‘‘Oh, William, don’t speak of it in that way; 
somehow it hurts me. My dear, I have it all 
carefully packed away in the great cedar chest, 
with your uniform and my homespun dress, the 
one I wore when I nursed you after the battle 
of Bull Run. Don’t you remember when they 
lifted you on the stretcher I held your head ? ’ ’ 

“That I do, Martha,” and a mist dulled the 
twinkling gray eyes. 

“That homespun gown is stained with the 
blood that then oozed from your wounds, Wil- 
liam; it is also on your uniform. Yes, they are 
in the chest covered with lavender and rose 
leaves. The Confederate money is there also, 
but we don’t need it. Some day, my dear, the 
gray suit and my homespun gown will be taken 
out and we will wear them again. You’ve prom- 
ised me, and I’ve promised you, William. AYe’ve 
promised each other — haven’t we? — that at the 
Resurrection Morn we will face each other 
clothed in those blood-stained garments, blood 
that was shed for our dear cause, that was lost 
though just. ’ ’ 

“Yes, wife, that we will. We read about 


312 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


snowy robes and starry crowns and golden 
harps, but I pray the good Lord will let me, on 
that day, right-face Him wearing my button- 
tarnished, blood-stained suit of gray, with my 
sword, instead of the harp, in my hand. I know 
that^s the way Lee and Jackson and Stovall and 
Gordon and all the rest of my comrades will be 
arrayed. That^s if they have their way about 
it. I swear I do! Pardon me, my dear — ’pon 
my word — I mean — I mean — well, Martha, the 
force of habit is a dreadful master. Any man 
who has been swearing in a gentlemanly way for 
more than fifty years can’t break himself of it in 
a day. You’re a sensible woman, Martha, and 
know that’s so, don’t you!” and he caught both 
of his wife ’s slim, white hands and pressed them 
to his lips reverently. 

‘‘Yes, William, but there are some things too 
sacred and holy to bear the desecration of a sin- 
ful habit ; things that should be paramount, yes, 
strongest and highest always. ’ ’ 

“Yes, yes, Martha, you’re right; but, my dear 
Miss Gypta, I’m afraid our conversation di- 
verged beyond your interest. I started out to 
entertain you by a description of our ante-bel- 
lum social life out here, and the splendor, and 
the glorious days at Magnolia Hall, when un- 
consciously I shifted far from the subject. 
Whenever wife touches on the contents of that 
cedar chest, I forget everything else; but you 
must pardon me when I say you were so quiet 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


313 


that I forgot your presence. As I was going to 
say—'’ 

‘‘Now, William," Mrs. Bailey interrntped, 
“suppose you take Miss Gypta over to the Hall 
this afternoon, for it is certainly one of the 
sights of this country; why, the Northern tour- 
ists flock here during the fall and winter, and 
they never fail to drive over to Magnolia Hall. 
But pshaw ! it 's all overgrown and as wild as a 
jungle now." 

“Thank you, I would like to visit there very, 
very much. I'm going away soon, so we'd bet- 
ter go at once." This was said in a feverish, 
eager voice. 

“Just as soon as you like. I'm at your serv- 
ice, my dear young lady. You will see a gloomy 
old place, but of interest in many ways. I can 't 
understand how young Baxter is willing to live 
among those Yankees, — I mean, er, those North- 
erners, — and permit such a home to go to the 
dogs. Why, the niggers have been living on the 
place so long they believe by right of possession 
they are the legitimate owners." This he said 
turning to Mrs. Bailey. “I heard Ben Blodgett 
only yesterday say that he had been living in his 
house since a year after freedom, and he'd be 
d if any man could put him off, and I under- 

stand that is the expression of opinion of every 
one of the black rascals. I've advised Sam Black 
to-day to let Rhett Barnwell, Baxter's lawyer, 
know the state of affairs, and just how the place 
is going to the Devil. Why, there 'snot a worse lot 


314 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


of negroes in this country than that gang of 
squatters on the Baxter lands ; and I tell you 
now, Martha, there dl be trouble getting them off. 
It’s none of my business, but I hate to see the 
fine old place given up to the owls, bats, and 
niggers and going to ruination generally. We’ll 
see something lively and active when they’re 
ordered out and off of that place. ’ ’ Having de- 
livered himself of this opinion, the old colonel, 
with his accustomed grunt, by way of motive 
power, arose. 

must send Caesar for the mail,” he said, 
glancing at his watch as he moved away slowly. 

Yes, Miss Gypta, you must surely visit Mag- 
nolia Hall, ’ ’ continued Mrs. Bailey as her fingers 
moved mechanically among the soft wools. 

‘Ht is sad to see how that family has died out. 
Only Barron is left, and he is as though dead to 
the interests of the place. It was once rumored 
he would marry his cousin, Helen Alston. But 
pshaw! Helen was to him like an older sister. 
She died long ago, and ever since then the place 
has been closed. No ! Barron Baxter was never 
known to care for anything but his horses and 
dogs. He was proud as a young lord, too. 
For that reason I scorned the idea when it was 
recently suggested that he would marry the 
daughter of a Northern millionaire. No ! no ! he 
will never do that, I’m sure. I believe if Bar- 
ron were to marry out of his own class, though 
he reaped a fortune by such an alliance, his 
ancestors would turn over in the vault with dis- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


315 


approval and humiliation. But really, my dear, 
here I Ve been talking at such a rate I Ve forgot- 
ten the preserves Chloe asked me to watch while 
she went to her cabin a minute, and I smell them 
now burning I fear,^^ and Mrs. Bailey walked 
briskly toward the kitchen. 

With scorching cheeks and icy hands, Gypta 
arose and as quickly as possible reached the se- 
clusion of her room. 

‘ ^ Oh, God ! why have you brought me here, and 
thrust me at his very door, the home in which I 
had once hoped to reign as his wife? I’m the 
same as ever, and yet I’m not. Oh! God, I’ve 
tried to be brave and strong, but I am here by 
no will of my own. I couldn’t help it. Dear 
God, teach me what to do — where to go! I’m 
a woman, only a weak, worshiping woman, and 
no matter where I go, I can ’t get away from my 
heart and soul, for I love — love — love him! No 
matter if my body is a million miles away, my 
life is with him. So I’ll stay here just a little 
longer. It’s no harm to him if I breathe the 
air he once breathed. He ’ll never know I’m here. 
I will just see Ins home. I’ll be brave and go 
there. That won ’t harm him. ’ ’ 

She arose, dominated by a mystic spell, the 
indefinable sweetness of the whole situation, 
the sudden knowledge that had come to her, 
and the longing to enter the home where he had 
entered and look with her own eyes at the things 
and places Barron had so often pictured to her. 
A wild haunting impatience thrilled her as, a 


316 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


few hours later, after a drive of several miles, 
Colonel Bailey pointed to the gray castle-like 
towers of Magnolia Hall. 

^‘Yes, we haven ^t left the Ashley Eoad one 
inch, and there before ns is the Hall. Eight 
ahead, you see, it looks like an old tower above 
those trees, doesn’t it!” asked her companion. 

‘‘Yes,” answered Gypta, closing her eyes as 
though blinded by that first sight. ‘ ‘ Can I hear 
it!” she thought, “must I go on! Yes, yes, I 
will go if I fall dead on the threshold. I will die 
satisfied that I have at least entered there, and 
have seen — ” 

“Sakes alive ! Hold on. Miss Gypta, this road 
is in a terrible condition. I haven’t been over it 
in a year or more, ’ ’ and the old colonel kept his 
eyes on the wheels first to the right, then to the 
left, as they jogged over fallen logs and lowered 
in washouts. 

Gypta paid little heed to what he was saying 
as she gazed on the landscape before her. 

The tall Corinthian columns unrolled them- 
selves in gleaming white patches through the 
live oaks that like cowled monks stood solemn 
guard in their gruesome gray-moss trappings. 
Her eyes became fixed and glazed, as though she 
saw painted on those age-scarred walls that 
vaunted aloft so pompously the shadow of the 
ghastly and endless years that were to come. It 
looked as though it were a tomb to which her 
poor, benighted, struggling body was being 
borne. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


317 


Her brow was moist and ber bands clencbed. 
It seemed tbeactof a sycophant to thus stoop, ber 
pride in tbe dust, and go sneaking for a glimpse 
of tbe borne in wbicb sbe bad expected to enter 
an honored wife, and a worthy daughter of the 
Baxters. But with desolating despair she re- 
alized she was barred forever from tbe haughty, 
shadowless patrician life that she had believed 
would be hers. And now she could not claim a 
tuft or reed, or a hand’s breadth of sand or moss. 

So long had she lived in cultured communities 
where the emotions are tamed under the conven- 
tional bands of artificiality that to a great extent 
the inborn ferocity of her nature was held in 
abeyance ; but now that she was brought face to 
face with all that fate had denied her, there rose 
up in her the lower impulses, and for the mo- 
ment the less noble instincts controlled her. All 
the fire and force that were in her came out, and 
in silence she rebelled against the austerity of 
her doom. A sombre anger was kindled in her 
and she felt that the one fatal drop of blood in 
her veins had turned to leaping lava, hissing, 
and scorching her to the very quick. 

^‘Now we’re in the grounds. This park ex- 
tends for about twenty acres, and the mansion 
is exactly in the center. Well, ’pon my word, if 
I wasn’t so familiar with every foot of these 
grounds I would never know where this park 
begins or where it ends, for it has so completely 
merged into the forest. Now let me see,” and 
Colonel Bailey pointed with his whip to the left. 


318 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^‘RigM over there is the park line, You notice 
the big magnolias are at regular intervals ; they 
extend all around the grounds. AVhew ! how they 
need pruning. The mimosa hedge yonder to the 
right used to be one of the most attractive places 
in the park, but it^s now, as my good wife said, 
a veritable jungle. There the flower garden be- 
gins. It was once one of the most beautiful gar- 
dens in the State, I think in the world. But what 
is it now? Ah ! could my dear old friend, Caro- 
line Baxter, see those azalia hedges, I believe she 
would weep, even though in heaven. Why, this 
park is a wilderness ! But, thank God, the ave- 
nue through which we’re driving isn’t com- 
pletely overgrown. Would you believe this has 
always been considered the most magnificent 
avenue in the South?” 

During these comments Gypta sat in silence, 
though there was scarcely a tree or bush she did 
not closely observe. The tumultuous resent- 
ment that for the moment had aroused her dor- 
mant passions in a cry against the injustice of 
her fate gave away, and now it were as though 
she was treading on sacred ground. 

^Wenerable old mansion, is it not?” Colonel 
Bailey asked, stopping a few paces from the 
broad stone steps. 

‘ ‘ It is indeed a venerable old mansion, ’ ’ Gyp- 
ta repeated listlessly. 

‘ ‘ And there is old Abram ! Nodding as usual. ’ ’ 

On the steps the ancient human relic was doz- 
ing in the sun, but hearing the voice of strangers. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


319 


he awoke with a start, and hobbled to his feet as 
he bent almost double in profound salutation. 

‘‘Why, how are you, Abram? We want to 
look around the place, and with difficulty Col- 
onel Bailey climbed from the buggy, while Oypta 
followed with a lithe bound. 

“Thank you’, Maus Bull. I’s only jus’ tol- 
er’ble. Sarta’nly, sar; walk right in, sar. 

‘ ‘ De young lady look like de folks who usen to 
come to visit our buckra, when ole mauster, an’ 
ole missis, an’ young maus Rhett, an’ Maus Bar- 
ron, an’ Miss Helen an’ Miss Lucy usen to be 
here befo’ de wah.” This he mumbled to him- 
self in an undertone. “Yes, ma’am,” he said 
suddenly, arousing to the occasion. “You see 
I’s de ole-time nigger. Yas, ma’am, mebbe you 
would like to see inside de house, de pictur’s an’ 
de furniture an’ de like.” A continual curtsey 
followed old Abram’s invitation as he clutched 
his fragment of hat which was kept bobbing up 
and down. 

“I’ll jis’ ring de bell, mauster, an’ Mis’ Sikes 
’ll show you ’bout de house. But if you an’ 
young missis want to see de groun’s an’ de park, 
I ’s de proper one to pint it out to you. ’ ’ So say- 
ing, his shoulders were thrust back with an air 
of importance. 

“Well, Abram, there is nothing much to see 
outside. The grounds are pretty much the same 
as the forest through which we’ve just passed, — 
a tangle of bushes and trees, — so we will go into 
the house.” 


320 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^^Wait, Colonel, please, just a few minutes if 
you don’t mind, and let us look at these big trees 
and these lovely overgrown azalias and gardinia 
hedges and — and — everything. ’ ’ 

^‘Yes, ma’am. Missis, you’s right; they’s 
worth lookin ’ at. Ole mauster he prize de trees 
an’ de hedges mo’ dan he did de house an’ all 
dar was in it, ’cept de swords an ’ de guns an ’ de 
portraits. Ole missus she love de vines. Her 
blessed hands planted dis same yalla jessamine 
dat dun sprawl clean over de wall an’ posts. 
Mans Barron, who’s livin’ in de New York City, 
he keep ’er sendin ’ f er de roots from dat vine ; 
but humph ! dat vine ain ’ gwine sprout or grow 
for de Yankee folks ; hit’s too usen to us, dat vine 
is.” Here his wrinkled face broke into a smile 
as he stooped over, slapping his knees and laugh- 
ing immoderately at what he considered a very 
funny speech. 

Gypta, with a shudder, grew pale as with a 
swift, convulsive grasp she clutched the spiral 
trunk of the vine for support. The brown ten- 
drils from the tottering trellis leaped and 
writhed like so many rebellious vipers, and it 
seemed every fibre of her being felt the sting of 
their poisonous fangs. Her eyes turned away as 
in breathlessness she searched for some object 
by which she might divert the subject and check 
the overflow of the old man’s reminiscent volu- 
bility. 

Suddenly her glance rested on something 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


321 


across the grounds. Over her face passed a 
shadow of startled fear. 

‘‘What is that*? What is that?^^ she cried 
nervously. “Oh, Colonel, look! Do you see a 
headless man standing over beyond the ter- 
race — a tall, stitf man with no head!^’ She quiv- 
ered like a delicate, frightened animal as she 
turned to the old colonel with a swift, appealing 
glance. 

“My dear child, that^s no goblin or gnome or 
ghost — so don^t be afraid. Suppose we go and 
get acquainted with the gentleman. ’ ^ 

‘ ‘ Colonel, what can it be T ’ Gypta repeated in 
tremulous tones as she swept hurriedly onward 
beside Colonel Bailey, whose heavy tread un- 
mercifully crushed down the waxy arbutus and 
spicy undergrowth, spraying the air with their 
bruised odorous sweets. 

“Oh, how horrible!^’ Gypta exclaimed on 
reaching the spot and confronting the gruesome 
figure. 

“Allow me to present you to one of our oldest 
and most honored landmarks,’’ — and opening 
wide his arms, in mock ceremony. Colonel Bailey 
bowed with courtly grace, — Mister Duello j 
Miss Prescott.” 

“Oh, Colonel, what is it!” and Gypta smiled 
with a curious, bewildered look in her face. 

“That is a duelling mark. Miss Gypta,” and 
Colonel Bailey scrutinized it closely after giving 
the shoulder a vigorous shake. 

“You are pretty well done for; yes, Mr. 


322 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


Duello, you liave become somewhat shaky. That, 
Miss Gypta, is what we call a duelling-mark,’^ 
and he turned and stared at Gypta quizzically. 

‘ ‘ A — what. Colonel ? ’ ’ 

Why, it is for the practice of duelling. Aim- 
ing at this old fellow prepared one for the field 
of honor. Yes, and he has lost his head, — it has 
crumbled and fallen off. I’m not surprised you 
were not anxious to be introduced to a man with 
no head — but see, his heart is all right, a good 
deal scarred and faded, it’s true; but few of us 
lose our heads and keep our hearts, eh. Miss 
Gypta? When a man’s heart is gone he is al- 
most sure to lose his head too — but he is a queer 
old fellow! But ’pon my word, wonderfully 
well preserved considering that he has stood in 
that same spot for more than — let me see, yes, 
for more than fifty years. You notice that’s 
what we aimed at,” and Colonel Bailey passed 
his hand over the weather-stained, bullet-pierced 
heart. 

‘^Oh, Colonel, it seems so dreadful! To me 
duelling represents neither heroism nor nobil- 
ity, but cruelty and premeditated murder.” Her 
eyes grew humid and earnest. 

‘^Ah! there’s where you are mistaken, my 
dear young lady. In my opinion it is the one 
and only way for gentlemen to honorably adjust 
a difficulty. The duello is co-existant with our 
highest civilization, and so long as the chivalric 
spirit of the South retains its normal standard, 
the code will remain firm. It is wrought on an 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


323 


inexorable principle ; but we are becoming sub- 
merged in too much democracy, the result of the 
war, and there’s the danger that threatens us. 
AVhen aristocracy falls, then down will go our 
code of honor to the level of the coward and 
the bully ; just as that proud old head has tum- 
bled from its lofty pinnacle and decays in the 
rank weeds and mould. Poor old head, if you 
had a tongue and could use it, what secrets you 
could reveal. Many are the tales of duels and 
duellists you could pour forth. Many that would 
be amusing, some of recklessness and fool-hardi- 
ness, and yet your heart has caught bullets from 
the guns of men who have made the history of 
the South, yes, given to our proud Common- 
wealth the grandest record of courage and honor 
on God’s earth.” With emphasis the old 
colonel’s cane came down upon the decapitated 
nob, arousing and putting to action a family of 
dozing toads. ‘ ^ Yes, there it lies, ’ ’ he continued, 
‘‘the fallen head lodged among toads and rep- 
tiles — a type of our declining aristocracy and 
the death knell of the duello. Such a destiny is 
as inexorable as though the gods of old had 
shai)ed it. Well may you bury your face, old 
man, low in the dust.” 

As he spoke, Gypta riveted her eyes on the 
head, as in obedience to some mechanical im- 
pulse, yet with a melancholy eagerness that a 
more observant man than Colonel Bailey could 
not have failed to notice. 

“Yes, my child, some of our most noted duel- 


324 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


lists have practiced at that mark. I remember 
well how Tabor, Brooks, and Wigfall used to 
stand just where we now stand and aim at that 
heart. It blazed out blood red in those days. 
Young Barron is no mean shot himself. His 
father compelled him to practice here an hour 
every morning. 

Abram,’’ Colonel Bailey called abruptly. 

Yas, sar, Mauster Bull.” 

‘ ‘ Do you see that head ? ’ ’ 

^‘Yo’ mean what usen to be de head? Yas, 
sar, I see dat. ’ ’ 

Well, before your young master comes home 
have that head cleaned and put in place. ’ ’ 

^‘Please, sar, is Mans Barron gwine practice 
for any duels when he gits home? Lord have 
marcy, it seems like de ole days come back. I’ll 
git out de pistols, an’ clean ’em. Dey ain’ seen 
de flash of de powder since mauster shot an ’ kilt 
Gineral Travis Middleton.” 

‘ ^ Leave the pistols where they are, Abram. I 
simply order you to put the head where it be- 
longs, that on your young master’s return he 
will not find it in that condition. ’ ’ 

^ ^ Y assar , you ’s right, Maus Bull. ’ ’ So saying 
the old man bowed almost double as he grappled 
in the mould and with a grunt of exertion lifted 
the head piece. 

De Lord know how many fine gen ’1 ’men look 
at you and pint at you. Yas, and bin kilt from de 
lamin’ of you. Does you recollict when ole maus- 
ter shoot an’ kilt Gineral Travis Middleton — 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


325 


Mauster loved dat gen’Pman same as a brudder, 
but ’cause he an’ mauster got in er po-lit-i-cal 
recussion an’ de gineral he deflected on de ve- 
racity of ole mauster, well everybody from de 
Santee to de Ashley Parish know dat no Baxter 
ain’ gwine stand any deflection on his word, so 
dat is de way de gineral got heself shot down 
same as er rabbit. No, ma’am, our white folks 
gwine shoot his own brudder if he deflects on his 
honor. Hit’s er word an’ er bullet wid de Bax- 
ters.” 

‘‘Come, Miss Gypta, we will leave Abram to 
resurrect and apostrophise, while we’ll find 
something of more interest to you. ’ ’ 

“No, no, this really interests me very much; 
it is all so new, so strange. ’ ’ 

As Colonel Bailey turned in the direction of the 
house, Gypta paused and looked back. 

There in the gloom and silence she saw the 
tall gaunt figure of the man just as from a bank 
of purple clouds the sun burst in scarlet and 
amber lances, seeming to gash the headless 
throat and painted heart in dripping blood. 

“Now, sar,” said Abram, “I’s pinted out de 
grounds to you, an’ young Missis, if you so order 
I’ll ring de bell so dat Miss Sikes kin do de rest 
of de hos-pi-tality of de Hall. Does you order 
yo ’ sarvant to ring, Mauster ’ ’ 

“Yes, Abram, that’s right.” 

“Yassar,” and down went the old body in a 
low curtsy. Shuffling up the steps, he gave the 


326 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


brass bell knob such a jerk as to bring Mrs. 
Sikes in breahless haste to the door. 

‘‘Good mornin^, Colonel Bailey. I^m power- 
ful glad to see you and I^m glad to meet the 
young lady too. Walk right in, sir. You’ll find 
things sorter upset, but I ’m trying to get a bit of 
air and sunshine in the house. WeVe got word 
from Mister Baxter’s lawyer that Mister Baxter 
might come down here. Yes, sir, he’s been bear- 
in’ about the trouble, how the agents can’t git 
the niggers off the land, and he’s cornin’ to see 
what he can do. Yes, you and the young lady is 
welcome to go wherever you please, sir. I ricol- 
lect the Baileys and the Baxters was always 
powerful thick. Now you won’t mind the dust, 
you see I’m tryin’ to brighten up things befo’ 
Mister Baxter gits here.” 

This Mrs. Sikes said in the nasal, jay-like 
whine designated by the negroes as the po’ 
buckra voice. 

“You say Mr. Baxter is really coming home?” 
Colonel Bailey asked. 

“Yes, sir; he sure is cornin’.” 

‘ ‘ Do you mean to stay ? ’ ’ 

“Well, I don’t ’spose so, sir; his orders was 
to prepare his room; now, if he meant to stay 
he ’d have the whole place opened up. Mr. Sikes 
is had a heap of trouble with them niggers. They 
say they’ll hold that land or know the reason 
why. Yes, sir, any day I’m ex^jectin’ Mister Bar- 
ron. Now, come up stairs first if you like. I’ve 
opened up this room; it’s on the front at the 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


327 


head of the stairs, you see — it’s the most con- 
venient and biggest room on this floor. Walk 
Kight in ; the view from this window is one of the 
sights of the place ; but it isn ’t what it usen to 
be when the grounds was kept in order. Yonder, 
you see, is the Ashley River — sorter reminds me 
of quicksilver tremblin ’ through them trees. ’ ’ 

‘‘But who would believe such a place as this 
would have been shut up all these years. Phew ! 
it’s close in here, too,” and the old colonel 
mopped his face and puffed like a human locomo- 
tive, his way of expressing his aversion to all 
exertion. 

“I’ll just step down stairs and cool off a lit- 
tle, while Mrs. Sikes shows you what you may 
find of interest up here. You’ll excuse me, 
please?” 

“Certainly, Colonel, make yourself com- 
fortable and cool. I’ll not keep you waiting 
long. Yes, it is very close,” and Gypta leaned 
heavily against the mantel. “I feel just — just a 
little faint, that’s all.” In a moment she would 
have fallen, but Mrs. Sikes put her arm around 
her and led her from the room into the broad 
hall. 

“Nothing at all will I have. I’m well now. 
Thank you very much — no wine, notliing but 
fresh air. Ah ! I’m well now, ’ ’ she replied with 
a gracious smile, which quieted Mrs. Sikes’s so- 
licitude and accelerated her conversation. 

“Yes, this place needs a mighty deal of airing. 
Mebbe you’d like to see the picture gallery, but 


328 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


all of the finest pictures, the big family por- 
traits, is sewed up in canvas cloth. Some months 
ago Mr. Sikes, that’s my husband, the overseer 
or agent of tliis place, ma’am, he got orders to 
have the whole place put in tip-top order, that 
some fresco men and all such high-up workmen 
was to come down here from New York, — that’s 
where Mister Barron lives, you know,” said 
Mrs. Sikes, loquacious and confidential, as it was 
her wont when she had anything she intended to 
keep secret, — ‘‘and,” continued she, “the place 
was to be made over like new. We all ’lowed 
that a bride would be cornin’ down this way 
mighty soon. But sakes alive ! All at once a 
message come to Mister Sikes to let things stay 
as they is, that his plans was changed. Yes, 
ma’am,” said Mrs. Sikes with a flourish of her 
turkey-tail duster, “if you ever saw a disap- 
pointed crowd, we was that crowd. We ’lowed 
high life was to set in here like before the war, 
but there ain’t no sign of it now. There ain’t 
no tollin’ what Mister Barron is go in’ to do, no 
ma’am.” 

Gypta rested heavily against a massive brass 
pedestal which supported a silver candelabrum. 
Her hands moved listlessly over the rich carv- 
ing around the empty socket. She was not sen- 
sible of the movements of her hands as she lis- 
tened with a torturing fascination to the 
woman’s talk. She was as one who is under a 
surgical operation and insists on watching the 
incision of the keen blade into the sensitive flesh 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


329 


and noting every drop of blood that oozes from 
the wound. Spellbound, she listened, though sen- 
sible that the woman’s tongue was a red-hot 
pincher pulling her heart-strings until they 
writhed in agony. 

‘^Yes, them candle-sticks must be cleaned and 
filled. James, that’s my boy, he never comes to 
the Hall but that he says, ‘Ma, them candle- 
sticks is big enough for me and Bud to climb in, 
same as we climb the ’sinimon tree ; and the big 
cut-glass chandelier down stairs in the front 
parlor, he calls the sleet and ice tree, ’cause it 
sparkles like when it shakes. James never was 
cut out for a plain overseer of niggers like his pa 
was befo’ him. I b’lieve James is a natu’al born 
po-et, he always sees things in a high-ferlutin’ 
sorter stjde. Now, them candle-sticks must be 
polished befo’ Mister Barron gets here. Why, 
Miss, befo ’ the war it kept Mose and Caesar busy 
from sunrise to sunset keepin’ the silver and 
brass at a high shine, and givin’ them mahogany 
doors and silver knobs a daily rubbin’.” 

At this juncture the voice of Colonel Bailey 
was heard from the hall below. 

‘^Miss Gyp, have you seen enough of this 
gloomy old place!” 

‘‘Yes, in one minute. Colonel.” 

“Why, Miss, you ain’t seed nothin’ yet. I 
happened to bring you up here first, where there 
ain’t much to look at. The banquet-room and 
the big drawin ’-rooms and the ballroom and the 
library and the lock-room are all on the first 


330 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^lo^ The folks who come out here from Charles- 
ton, — the Northern folks come in swarms from 
there, — why they go clean crazy over the ban- 
quet-room and the lock-room, with all the queer 
shields and duelling pistols, and swords and 
guns without end. Why, I declare. Miss, I jus^ 
have to laugh at the sight they make over them 
old rubhish-lookin ^ things. ’ ’ 

With the keen absorbed interest that a child 
listens to a ghost-story, Gypta with wide eyes 
and bated breath drank in every word that fell 
from the woman ^s lips. This Mrs. Sikes noted 
with grateful vanity which sufficed to increase 
her volubility. 

‘‘Miss Gyp, I’m sorry to hurry you, but — ” 

“Yes, Colonel, I’ll be with you right away.” 

“Now, Mrs. Sikes, I’ve enjoyed this old place 
very much, and I want to thank you — now please 
accept this trifle as a souvenir,” and Gypta took 
from her collar a gold and emerald pin. ‘ ‘ This 
is a little souvenir,” she said, smiling sweetly. 
“It will look pretty in your lace tie.” 

As the buggy passed down the winding avenue 
Mrs. Sikes stood on the stone steps, dazed at her 
good fortune. 

“I tell you, Abram, there ain’t no Yankee 
blood in that young lady. You needn’t tell me 
so! See this, a gen-u-ine gold brooch with a 
real stone in it. Well, she’s the sorter lady 
Mister Barron ought to bring here. She’s the 
likeliest lady I’ve seen here since befo’ the war.” 

“Yess’m, Miss’s Sikes, I ’grees wid you pre- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


331 


zactly,’’ old Abram said, putting down bis 
shears and twine. ^^See what she give de ole 
man, ’er whole silver dollar, an’ I ain’t do noth- 
in’ but same as I bin usen to do, jus’ preserve de 
dignitj^ of de groun’s. It sorter seem like when 
de fine folks come er flockin’ to de Hall in de 
good ole times.” 


CHAPTEE XXXI 


As Colonel Bailey leisurely sipped his coffee 
between glances at the head-lines of the News 
and Courier, an item of interest caught his eye, 
and with an exclamation his ruddy face beamed 
with delight. 

‘ ‘ Hurrah ! ladies, Barron Baxter is really here, 
arrived on Wednesday’s steamer. Now that is 
what I call good news. Think, Martha, the boy 
has come home.” 

‘ ‘ The dear, dear boy ! ’ ’ Mrs. Bailey exclaimed, 
with tender motherly affection, as she smiled 
over the silver coffee-urn. 

The notice of Barron’s homecoming moved 
these old people to animated conversation and 
reminiscent talk concerning his boyhood, his go- 
ing away, and at last the causes that had called 
him home. 

‘ A^ou apprehend no real trouble, do you, Wil- 
liam I ’ ’ Mrs. Bailey asked anxiously. 

‘AVell, I’m afraid these squatters will give 
Barron trouble. As I told you, I ’ve heard some 
ugly reports about their threats. I don’t like 
that Mosely gang, they’re a hard lot,” and 
Colonel Bailey nodded iiis head to Jerrold for 
more coffee. 

In the mean while, Gypta had made an effort 
to rise. She felt as though she was choking on 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


333 


ashes, and her ears were full of empty murmur- 
ing winds ; she longed for the open air. 

‘‘ Why, my dear,’’ said Mrs. Bailey, “you’re 
eating nothing — so absorbed have we been with 
Barron’s homecoming we’ve neglected the child. 
William, give Gypta a bit of that chicken breast 
and — ” 

“No, no thank you, everything is very nice 
and tempting, but I missed my usual early gallop 
and have no appetite, so please excuse me,” she 
said, rising, her eyes full of wistful pathos and 
pleading. 

Colonel Bailey looked up. 

“Oh, Miss Gyp,” he called. 

“What is it. Colonel?” and Gypta paused in 
the door-way and gave him a pleased, apprecia- 
tive glance, though she saw him through a maze. 

‘I want you to meet our friend, the Lord of 
Magnolia Hall; we are to be neighbors now. 
You know what the Good Book says about one’s 
duty to his neighbor — with your permission I ’ll 
invite him over to see you,” and with this sug- 
gestion a fork was thrust into a second relay of 
hot waffles. 

Gypta stood still for a moment, and a shock 
of terror seized her. 

“ No ! no ! do not, please Colonel Bailey, I don ’t 
want to see him. Please remember I’m seeing 
no one. I’m here for quiet and rest. I don’t 
want to meet strangers. I mean — I mean — 
please don’t.” 

“Why, bless you, my dear child. I’ll thrust no 


334 


ri SON OF CAROLINxV 


acquaintance on you. Do not be alarmed. I Ve 
no idea of forcing you to know Barron Baxter, 
I merely mentioned it. ’ ' 

All at once Glypta recovered herself and raised 
a compelling hand. 

‘‘Colonel Bailey, please do not mention my 
name to this gentleman of whom you speak. I 
not only request, but insist that you do not ! ^ ^ 

These words, uttered with such earnest inten- 
sity, caused Colonel Bailey and Mrs. Bailey to 
glance at each other in sudden inquiry. 

“Why, you are ill, my dear; come sit here by 
me and have a fresh cup of coffee. How pale 
you are ! Come ! ’ ^ this Mrs. Bailey insisted. But 
Gypta declined on a plea that the warm atmos- 
phere was enervating and seemed to steal her 
strength away, and asked that she might rest 
undisturbed during the remainder of the day. 
Turning her eyes to Colonel Bailey, a chill steely 
glitter leaped in their soft velvet depths. 

“You will not mention my name to — to — the 
gentleman. Colonel Bailey! Say that you will 
not.’’ 

The next words came slowly and reverently. 
“Colonel, please do not tell Mr. Baxter that I’ve 
been here. ’ ’ She moved nearer to him and placed 
her hand on his chair. “Dear Colonel Bailey, 
promise me. ’ ’ 

In a moment the old colonel was on his feet, 
bowing slightly, with a gleam of injured pride 
and satire in his eyes. 

“My dear Miss Prescott, you do not under- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


335 


stand me. In a matter such as this a lady’s 
slightest suggestion is all-sufficient and her wish 
becomes a law.” 

‘^Why, my dear, good friend, pardon me if I 
seemed rude or impatient.” Gypta said this 
with pathos and simple utterance. 

“Forgive me, won’t you, dear Colonel 
Bailey!” and she stood with both hands held 
out, her bosom heaving and her face agleain with 
persuasive sweetness. 

Gypta, on reaching her room, had but one ob- 
ject ; that was to pack her trunk and get away at 
the earliest moment possible. She had requested 
Mrs. Bailey to allow her not to be disturbed, so 
that it was afternoon before any one intruded 
upon her. Nervously she gathered her belong- 
ings and put them in her trunks with the same 
reckless haste as though she were ready to es- 
cape from a burning building, at the same time 
failing to recall the fact that she could not catch 
the train before the following day. 

“I must get away or I’ll be ‘taken to the mad- 
house or to my grave. 0 God, why do you not 
let me die, and that will end all! Yes, I must 
go ; I must be off before I meet him face to face. 
I can endure this no longer! Christ, pity and 
help me ! ” This cry, half-fierce, half-despairing, 
broke from her quivering lips as she turned the 
key in her trunk and sank on her knees. All the 
sweet, maidenly impulses of her nature crowded 
in her mind, urging her to fly. Her delicate sen- 
sibility revolted at the thought of his finding her 


336 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


there, as though she had thrust herself at his 
very door, after he had thrown her from him as 
a thing accursed. With teeth set and face 
blanched, she bowed her head and tried to pray. 
‘ ^ Dear God, let me go, help me to get away now. ^ ^ 
No other words escaped her lips; this was all 
she craved, to be beyond Barron’s contempt and 
censure. To meet his disapproval or disrespect 
was what she feared most. She knew the sight 
of him would disarm her and all her high re- 
solves dissolve, once in his presence. 

‘^No, he shall not know how weak I am. I 
crawled before him for once and forever. He 
shall think of me as a poor unfortunate creature, 
with my heritage of woe, but I’ll never again be 
a cringing suppliant for his love — no, I will go 
away. AVith tliis thought she arose and stood 
with a bearing royal in its strength and calm. 

‘‘Please, ma’am. Miss Gyp, you say you’s 
goin’ away; lemme go too. I never did love no 
white lady ’cept ole Missis, same like I love you. 
AVhen I creep in de do’ jus’ now to see if you 
ain’ want nothin’ I hear you say you’s gwine 
away. Please, Miss Gyp, take me wid you. ’ ’ 

“Why, Peggy, you startled me. You should 
have waited until I summoned you. Now don’t 
worry me ; no, I ’m not sick, only want to be quiet. 
Leave my things just as they are. I’ll ring if I 
need you. Say to Mose I’ll not want Beppo un- 
til late.” 

‘Pegpr’s eyes widened and her lips parted, as 
like a little black swamp bird she stood on one 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


337 


foot, then the other, and twirled her apron nerv- 
ously. 

‘‘Miss Gyp, please, ma^am, don’t go ridin’ dis 
even’. If you does, ma’am, doan’ you go de 
Ashley Eoad or about de Magnolia Hall. I’se 
got reasons, ma’am, for axin’ you. Miss Gyp.” 

Gypta sat up and gazed with eager interest 
and curiosity at the girl. 

“Why do you say that, Peggy? What do you 
mean ? Come, tell me, ’ ’ and an indefinable ter- 
ror seized her. 

For a moment Peggy was silent, her eyes wid- 
ened still more, as she thrust her tongue in her 
cheek and continued to move uneasily. 

“I jus’ tell you. Miss Gyp, doan’ you go ; dat’s 
all, ma’am,” she blurted out. 

Gypta brought her powers of persuasion and 
command to bear on the girl with little etfect, 
until, moved by her love for her mistress, her 
voice fell to a whisper as she looked around the 
room, and tip-toed to the closet, where she peered 
in, then on her hands and knees she looked under 
the bed ; at last, opening the bureau drawers with 
mysterious gravity, she examined them. 

“You are silly, Peggy; what could get in 
there?” 

“Ghosts, ma’am; plenty of ghosts am in dis 
same room too. If de Mosely gang fin’s out 
what I gwine tell you now, dey will make ’er 
ghost out of Peggy mighty quick ; dey will sho ’ 
kill me. ’ ’ Here she paused with indecision. ‘ ‘ I 
dunno if I kin risk tellin ’ you. Miss Gyp. ’ ’ 


338 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^<Very well then, leave the room at once. I 
will not pardon your impertinence. I will ride 
when and where I please,’^ and Gypta, with an 
air of well-assumed indifference, turned her face 
away. 

^ ‘ Go, Peggy ; you annoy me. ’ ’ 

’Sense me, young Missis ; but please, ma’am, 
doan’ you go yonder. To be sho’ I’se gwine tell 
you. Lissin now. I’se gwine talk. Miss Gyp.” 

Very well, I hear you.” 

‘^You know de gen ’1 ’man dat dey calls Maus- 
ter Barron Baxter, don’ you?” 

^ ^ What about him ? ’ ’ 

^ ^ Heap ’erbout him, ma ’am. ’ ’ 

^‘What is it, Peggy? There’s a good girl; 
don ’t try my patience. ’ ’ 

^AYell, to-night dey’s gwine kill ’em, — sho’ 
dey is. De Blodgett gang dat ole Mauster talk 
’bout at de breakf as ’-table gwine kill dat same 
Mister Baxter, an’ burn him up. Big Jim Blod- 
gett, Uncle Fin, Luke’s pa, an’ all de colored 
folks in de Baxter woods gvine jine in. You 
see Mister Baxter he come down from New York 
to put ’em out of dey houses, an’ he giv’ ’em 
two days to git out, or he gwine put de law on 
’em. Dey am plannin ’ big things, young Missis. 
Dey is sw’arin’ an’ cussin’; say dey gwine hab 
his blood if dey can’t hab de land an’ de cabins. 
Dey gwine set fire to de Hall, an’ if he run out, 
dey’s all gwine to stand by de big front do’ an’ 
shoot ’im. Now, Miss Gyp, for de Lord’s sake 
don’ you tell on me, or I’ll be skinned alive. I 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


330 


was ’er pickin’ blackberries near by de Bcixter 
woods an’ hear ’em talJdn’. I creep behind de 
bushes an ’ lissin. What I tell you, young Missis, 
is what I hear ’em say.” 

<< Peggy, axe you speaking the truth?” Gypta 
asked vehemently, clutching the little brown, 
skinny arm of the girl. 

‘ ‘ Fore Gawd I is. Miss Gyp ! I sho ’ hear ’em 
say every word, now', I tell you!” Peggy’s 
voice fell to a low whisper. 

The blanched, terror-stricken look on the face 
of her mistress alarmed her so that she stared at 
her in helpless amazement, and it was with a 
sense of relief that she saw’ her spring to her 
feet. 

<< Peggy, IVe rested long enough. Is Colonel 
Bailey down stairs?” Gypta asked suddenly. 

‘‘No, ma’am; he an’ ole Missus dun gone up 
de river road to see Miss Lou Middleton.” 

‘ ‘ Peggy, ’ ’ Gypta called suddenly. 

“Yes ’am.” 

“When did you say the Mosely gang were to 
meet at the Hall ? ’ ’ 

“After sunset ; twm hours after. See, it’s get- 
ting mos’ sundown now,” and Pegg\”s eyes 
rolled ominously, through the window over a tu- 
lip tree that wms gathering golden lustre from 
the lowering swing of the sun. 

“Peggy, are there no white men about here? 
Come, tell me, where can I find them?” 

“Ain’ but few ’bouts here. Miss Gyp. De 


340 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


white buckra live mostly n ^ar de city. De lynch- 
inLparty dey mos’ all live thar^bouts.’’ 

<< Peggy/ ^ Gypta called, ^‘go tell Uncle Mose 
to have my horse ready at once,’^ and with all 
possible haste Gypta threw aside her filmy white 
robe and donned her snug riding-habit with a 
close little cap well drawn over her clustering 
curly hair. 

She now went down into the yard and ran 
hither and thither, hoping to find some one to 
whom she could give the alarm ; but by a strange 
fatality the place seemed to have been deserted. 
At last she repaired to the stables, where she 
found old Mose sitting on the ledge of the door, 
singing in a high, quavering voice, ^ ^ Flee, sinner, 
flee, or de Devil gwine kotch yer, ’ ^ beating time 
with one broad foot. Seeing Gypta approach, 
he arose to his feet. 

‘^Now, sho^ young Missus, you ain’ gwine 
ridin^ so late. The sun’s sottin’ now! Yass’am, 
it’s clean sot. Missus, it ain’ safe for you to go 
so late, no, ma’am, it tain’t; but since you seem 
so ’termin’ to go, lemme saddle Ivanhoe an’ 
ride behind you, so’s to protict you, ma’am. 
Miss Helen, she usen to call me her body-guard, 
an’ never went widout ole Mose.” So saying, 
he held his sides in a chuckle. 

^ ^ Uncle Mose, can I trust you ? ’ ’ 

^ ^ Trust me 1 Trust me, ma ’am ? Trust Moses 
AVashington Bonaparte Peter? You ax dat. 
Missus?” 


A SON OP CAROLINA 


341 


‘^Yes, tell me quick! Can I trust you with a 
matter of great importance 

‘ ‘ Try me, Missus ; dat ^s all I ax. ’ ’ 

The old man’s haste was greatly accelerated 
when Gypta placed in his hand a telegram, well 
fortified with several shining dollars. She bade 
him carry the message to the station and have it 
over the wires without a second’s delay. 

Old Moses was faithful to his charge, and a 
short while later the mayor of Charleston was 
informed of the impending insurrection of the 
negroes at Magnolia Hall. 


CHAPTEE XXXII 


The night fell gloomy and ominous, and the 
sluggish purple mists crept wildly over the wav- 
ing seas of unripened rice and the warm odorous 
lowlands. An owl whirled lazily from a tree- 
top and flung down its dolorous interrogatory, 
Who ? Who I As if in reply, the hoofs of a horse 
pounded the spongy earth in a mad gallop 
through the miasmic, drenched woods. 

Gypta was making a race for life. Her own 
peril was forgotten. So intent was she on sav- 
ing Barron Baxter from the fiery death-trap 
that doubtless at that very moment was kindled 
for him, that all other fears were exorcised. 

‘‘On, on! Beppo. Oh! God, speed us!’^ she 
cried hoarsely at every bound of the little roan, 
as he caught the bit and shook his mane, laying 
his belly to the earth with renewed effort. 

Seeming to catch the spirit of his rider, he 
sped on, fretted now at the dew-moist moss the 
sultry winds flapped in his face from over- 
reaching boughs, and again nettled to increas- 
ing speed as the wiry sedges clung to his hoofs 
like mad vipers. 

In the spongy, steaming loam of the stagnant 
swamp phosphorus balls pulsated like leering 
fiery eyes, in accord with the gruesome hilarity 
of the screech-owTs shrill laugh. 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


343 


Involuntarily Gypta slmddered, as slie leaned 
forward with her face pressed close on Beppo’s 
neck, one moment calling to him with tender en- 
treaties, patting and coaxing, and the next com- 
manding him to go, albeit his pace had not from 
the start once slackened, and his body was sweat- 
soaked and the snowy spume from the frothy bit 
sprayed the air. 

‘‘The road is endless!^’ she cried, staring 
through the appalling blackness, dreading what 
would meet her searching gaze. Even the swarm- 
ing fire-flies that powdered the gloom with their 
flashing light caused her heart to throb fast, and 
a dry sob choked her. 

‘ ‘ Dear God, do I see the flames, let me not be 
too late, the way is so long. Every second may 
mean his life, lost or saved. Fast ! fast ! faster, 
Beppo ! ’ ^ she cried with panting breath as the 
horse went on with unflagging speed, turning 
neither to the right nor to the left, save where 
the road curved or bent. 

Gypta remembered that rough road, and she 
thanked God with every advancing hoof-beat 
that she had learned it so well. 

“Almost there! Yes, I remember that big 
clump of water-oaks to the left. Colonel Bailey 
said since his boyhood he recalled them as the 
one-mile mark from the Hall. I remember he 
pointed them out and said that, yes, to the left 
all huddled together — one mile. Why, Beppo, 
wefll soon make that, the Hall is yonder, just 
ahead ! We will get an unbroken view when we 


344 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


get from this black, lowland swamp road! AVe 
know" where we are, Beppo — good horse, just 
keep on — on — on — 

Until now she had plunged through the woods, 
black like her own future, all blank nothingness, 
with no guiding post, no glimmer save that of 
the glow-worms and fire-flies, but now^ there was 
a sign, something to show she was nearing her 
journey’s end. 

The pace of her horse slackened on the spongy, 
mouldy footing of the marshy road, but settled 
dowm to renewed and splendid speed as his feet 
rang on firm and rising ground. 

‘‘Oh! now we can see!” and she raised her 
head and looked with tearless eyes and set lips 
as she clutched Beppo ’s mane. 

Against the scudding clouds, through which a 
pale moon sent out a ghastly gleam. Magnolia 
Hall stood dark and frowning. 

‘ ‘ Thank God, I see no blaze ! But hurry, Bep- 
po, ’ ’ she murmured with panting breath. ‘ ‘ He ’s 
asleep, and the fire may already be kindled, and 
creeping and crawling and licking nearer and 
nearer. Oh ! my love, my sweet, noble Barron, 
I ’m coming, coming to save you ! Oh ! to think 
he is there sleeping between the flames and clubs 
of the fiends ! 

‘ ‘ Go faster, faster ! Oh ! Heavenly Father get me 
there,” she prayed aloud, as on she went, with 
her horse still pressed to its utmost speed. Again 
she strained her figure to its full height in her 


A SON OF CAEOLINA 


345 


stirrups for another look, but only to fall back 
into the saddle almost senseless and powerless. 

^ ‘ They are there, they are there ! I see their 
signal! Too late, too late, after all too lateF^ 
she moaned as her head sank on her breast and 
Beppo took the reins, shaking his mane and 
snorting. Oypta raised her eyes again, and a 
sense of relief urged her on as she saw the 
smothered coil of smoke that struggled slowly 
upward was at the far end of the house in the 
rear wing. 

‘ ^ Christ be praised ! — they have put the torch 
the width of a dozen or more rooms away from 
where he^s sleeping. I recall Mrs. Sikes said he 
used to have bachelor quarters in that far wing 
toward the river. Fools, they think he’s there 
now. The banquet-room, billiard-room, and a 
dozen chambers and halls are between him and 
the fire, for he is at this near end. Oh ! I’ll save 
him yet ; but I must study my ground well, and 
lay my plans, or I’ll rush in the mob, and all will 
be lost. After I save him my life-work will be 
done ; but he shall not be burned or butchered !” 
She had reached the grounds, and here she 
paused, and patted her horse’s neck soothingly. 

‘^Slow, Beppo, quiet and slow,” she mur- 
mured, passing through the enclosure into the 
park, then neared the house through the thick 
growth. 

With renewed hope Gypta saw between the 
closed blinds of Barron’s chamber a light. By 


346 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


this she knew he must be awake. It was yet 
early, and it was unlikely he had retired. 

must get him out before he discovers the 
place is on fire, or he will rush beneath the clubs 
that are this minute raised to crush him to 
death. Soon he will hear the roar of flames! 
There’s no time now to think or plan — I must 
go !” With unflinching courage, and fitting the 
decision to action, she slipped from her horse 
£ind led him to a spot where low-branched mi- 
mosas made a veritable bower of concealment. 
After tying the horse she crept through the 
garden in the direction of the house, and under 
the cover of a thicket went onward slowly and 
cautiously. With feelings of terrible repulsion 
and fear she suddenly paused at the sound of 
low, threatening voices that seemed only a few 
13aces away from where she stood. On tip-toe 
slie moved forward and parted the bushes gen- 
tly, when with a shiver from head to foot through 
the opening she detected a group of negroes 
huddled close about the columns of the broad 
porch. Faintly she saw the evil-browed, menac- 
ing faces, and the black brawny arms of several 
of the mob, who swung their clubs to and fro, 
while here and there the long barrel of a rifle 
gleamed threateningly. 

It was just as Peggy had said; they were 
guarding the house after setting fire to it, and 
her only course was to make her way to a side 
entrance, as evidently they were expecting his 
exit through the front door. Here she fell upon 
her knees, and began to creep stealthily, keeping 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


347 


in the underbrush of the intricate foliage’s 
knitted ways — crawling nearer and nearer, until 
nothing save the box-hedge separated her from 
the ruthless crew. With the passing of every 
second the peril increased. The flames were 
forging forward, but were fortunately retarded 
by the wind, which swept in an opposite direc- 
tion ; yet gradually the grounds were becoming 
illuminated, and the flames heaved like a giant’s 
breath. 

A cicado roosted on a camelia-hush behind 
which Gypta knelt. Awed by the intrusion, it 
flapped its wings, and with a hideous wail 
swooped through the brittle foliage, causing it 
to crackle and snap. 

Gypta started. 

‘AVho dat? I hear some noise!” one of the 
men ejaculated in a hoarse whisper. 

‘‘You heard de screech-owl, dat’s all; same 
time, I ’s gwine put my musket in position. ’ ’ 

“It ’pears mighty long time for dat fire to 
make headway. I got ’er mind to go in dat 
house an’ bust his brains out an’ make quick 
work of it, den it’s dun wid!” and Jim Blodgett 
grasped his club. 

“No, you ain’t; we’s gwine let ’im burn.” 

“But ain’ you see de blaze is spreadin’ power- 
ful big? It soon gwine sho’ in Charleston. If 
we ’s seed here, dar ’ll be er bigger lynchin ’-party 
dan de one not long ago!” A marked antag- 
onism was in his voice. 

“Now, I’s de captin of dis gang,” he went on, 
“ an ’ you ’ll shet yo ’ mouth an ’ heah what I say. ’ ’ 


348 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


^ ‘ Talk on, Capt ’in, ’ ’ rejoined a big black Her- 
cules, his thick lips rolled back leeringly and his 
teeth glittering like a greedy animal awaiting its 
prey. 

‘^All right, lissin to my orders. Now, dar’s 
ten of us — five git on one side an’ five on t’other. 
Keep er sharp look-out, and when he run out, 
close in on ’im an’ we’ll talk’ bout what else 
later on. Ha ! ha ! dat’s what we’ll do ; but say, 
Jeff, you an’ Josh is de only men what’s got ’er 
gun, how many times hit shoot I ’ ’ 

Three times, sho’.” 

‘^We’s got our clubs all right!” and Jim 
Blodgett rocked himself with a devil-may-care 
air. 

The talk ran on slow and clamorous. 

Gypta, with bated breath, listened, and de- 
termined at any risk to make her way past them. 
Slowly she started. Inch by inch she went, an- 
other, then another, when with an abrupt turn 
she dashed around the corner of the house and 
made for the side entrance. Should the door be 
locked or bolted, all would be lost, she thought 
with horror, as struggling through the jungle of 
foliage, with hands lacerated by thorns and 
briars, and blinded by the glare and smoke, she 
rushed on until she reached the door. Throw- 
ing all her weight against it, at the same time 
turning the big metal knob, it yielded. ‘ ‘ God be 
praised, and I know the way!” she murmured, 
as through the hall she darted, then up the broad 
spiral stairway. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


Barron Baxter sat at his desk in the far end 
of his chamber. He wore his robe and slippers, 
and a half-smoked cigar was between his lips. A 
litter of musty letters and old deeds engaged 
his attention. Over these he had lingered since 
early noon. Suddenly he pushed them aside 
and with a yawn stretched his arms to their full 
length. 

swear I’m anxious to be through with this 
miserable business and get away from here. It’s 
deuced lonesome and uncanny, and everything 
has the odor of a mummy.” Here his pose 
changed as his head lay against the brown 
leather of his deep chair, as listlessly as a tired 
child’s, while his eyes passed slowly around the 
lofty ceilings of the room, where patches of de- 
nuded Cupids in tangles of roses were faintly 
visible through the veneer of age and neglect. 

‘ ‘ It really seems wrong to allow this old place 
to go to ruin, yet to bring it up to what it once 
was would impoverish me for the rest of my life. 

remember hearing that my grandfather 
brought out Bellini from Italy just to paint these 
walls. Why, it would beggar me to have that 
Venus and fat-cheeked Cupid restored; that is, 
according to what family tradition states was 
paid Bellini. Well, the inspiration that moved 


350 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


me to have the place restored to its former glory 
is dead, dead — 

As if to silence thought, his clenched fist came 
down with such force upon the desk as to cause 
the ink in the crystal well to leap and quiver, 
and the crisp old papers to rattle. 

As though a stab had silenced him, Barron 
gazed at the documents before him. 

^‘Well, I might as well wind up matters and 
he done with it, ’ ’ he thought, taking up a paper 
that he began to unfold. 

''Whew! I smell fire! Oh, yes, Abram has 
been burning brush. The old rascal would 
rather burn b^rush than barbecue a young lamb. 
By George ! I wouldn’t object this minute to have 
a joint of mint-served lamb, such as Erastus 
used to prepare ; and let me see, what else! Yes, 
I want some curl wafers, crisp and brown. Aunt 
Judy used to make curl wafers, and marvels, too. 
Well, I’m actually hungry to-night for some of 
those good things that I’ve scarcely thought of 
in years. There’s something in the smell of 
burning leaves that wafts those delicious savory 
odors to me. How strange! Well, when I get 
this infernal squatter business adjusted I believe 
I’ll stay here awhile and take things easy for a 
week or ten days. The Baileys keep up the old 
ante-bellum way — thank God. I can while visit- 
ing there get a whitf at least of my old-time life. 
Yes, and I’ll ask Mrs. Bailey, bless her dear soul, 
for curl-wafers and marvels and watermelon 
preserves, and the old colonel is sure to send me 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


351 


every morning’ a mint-julep as an eye-opener. 
YeSy I will go to see the Baileys to-morrow; 
and — By George ! these papers are musty and 
many of them worthless. Middleton, deed to 
Goose Creek lands, and — ’’ Here Barron sprang 
to his feet. He heard the sound of a turning- 
knob at the foot of the stairs, while a gust of 
wind rushed into the room and rioted with the 
table cover and flapped the lace curtains. An- 
other moment the room was flooded with hot 
glare and volumes of smoke. 

‘ ‘ Great God, the place is on fire — fire ! fire ! ’ ^ 
he shouted, springing to his desk, from which he 
snatched a package of papers and his loaded re- 
volver. Turning toward the door, he staggered 
and groped as if in the throes of delirium, as 
Gypta confronted him, her pale face and bewil- 
dered eyes and outstretched arms appearing like 
a vision indistinctly seen through the haze and 
unreality of a semi-conscious dream. 

A sharp, despairing wail broke from her lips 
as she flung herself against Barron, seizing him 
desperately in her effort to make him under- 
stand. 

‘^Come! Come!’’ she cried. ^^This way; not 
to the front, they’re waiting to club you dead. 
Oh! Barron, only follow aud trust me — come! 
I’m choking with smoke, and may lose the way.” 
Her clutch was on Baxter’s arm, with a sense of 
responsibility as though she were saving the life 
of a little child. 

For a moment Barron stood paralyzed with 


352 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


terrified amazement. He could make no move, 
but stared at Gypta in a stupefied, incredulous 
manner through the smoke and fitful glare of the 
flames. 

‘‘We must go at once!’^ she said in a resolute 
voice, though she swayed dizzily. “The front 
entrances are watched ! We must go out through 
the side door ! Once in the grounds we may get 
away — my horse awaits you ! Oh ! Barron, they 
will lock us in. Why do you stand staring at 
me — I’m only Gypta, just Gypta come to save 
you, ask nothing, only come — air! air! or I’ll 
die! I’m stifling!” she murmured in a smoth- 
ered voice. “The side entrance! not front. 
Hurry! Hurry!” she moaned, staggering 
against Barron and seizing his arm. 

For the first time Barron seemed aroused 
from his dream-like apathy to the impending 
danger. 

“1 will carry you,” said he, making an effort 
to lift Gypta in his arms. 

“No! No! Think only of yourself,” and she 
struggled forward with her hands clenched in 
the sleeve of his robe. 

“I know the way, just keep going!” she cried 
from time to time, with a panting, death-like 
rattle in her voice. 

She rubbed her eyes to ease their dazzled ache. 
They sprang down the broad winding stairs on- 
ward through the hall that led to the side porch. 
With bated breath they slipped through the door 
and crouched behind the broad base of a Gorin- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


353 


tliian pillar, where they awaited their chance to 
escape. Within a few feet distant the murder- 
ous gang paced to and fro, guarding the front 
way. 

‘‘Sho’ he dun burn, or he giyine soon be for 
runnin’ out!^’ cried one of the mob, backing 
from the increasing heat. 

‘‘We better git ’erway from heah — dat’s what 
I say ! Dat man he sho dun buT*n alreddy ! ’ ’ 

“Did you hear thatT’ Gypta whispered 
fiercely. 

“Yes, we must go at once,’’ and with her arm 
held securely they stealthily descended the steps 
and glided around the corner of the house, mak- 
ing sure to keep close within the shadow of the 
wall. Then with a bold venture they started 
through the garden in swift defiance of the pierc- 
ing blades of Spanish bayonet and prickly 
hedges that not infrequently barricaded the way. 

Less than a year before, Gypta, with her physi- 
cal animation, her agile and lithe vigor, would 
have considered this excitement and venture 
mere sport; but this splendid vitality had been 
rudely shaken, and now as she moved on her 
limbs began to tremble and she often stumbled, 
recovering herself with effort. 

Leaning forward, Barron caught her and drew 
her close behind a camelia hedge that grew tall 
and dense. In awed accents he whispered, 
“Come, rest here. You’re terribly exhausted. 
We may stand here a little time in perfect safe- 
ty,” and he threw back his head with panting 


354 


A SON OF CAKOLINA 


breath. ‘‘They are watching the front, expect- 
ing my exit — and are not apt to come this way 
until the fire is well under way. We are safe 
here, for a while at least. 

“Now, hear me!’^ he said impulsively, seizing 
Gypta^s face between his hands, which he 
searched with eager curiosity, one moment, then 
another and another. 

‘ ‘ Gypta, I can no longer endure this torturing 
mystery. For God^s sake, explain how it is you 
are here I When and from whence did you come ? 
I donT really know if I am in delirium or if I 
see you standing there before me. Gypta, how 
has it all happened — why is it you are here risk- 
ing your life in my defense ? ’ ’ 

Withdrawing herself, Gypta exclaimed ex- 
citedly : 

“Bar — I mean Mr. Baxter, this is no time for 
explanations, no time to question or answer — 
you must go at once, the horse awaits you in the 
mimosa thicket at the left of the avenue. Will 
you goV^ she cried almost defiantly. 

Barron, as held by some invincible force, con- 
tinued to stare at her, and shook his head slowly. 

“There’s not a moment to lose; they will be 
looking for you ! I can hide until all is over, but 
you must go this moment and save yourself!” 
she cried excitedly, as with both hands she 
pushed him forward. 

“Could you believe me so base and cowardly, 
Gypta, as to think I’d leave you here? No! 
rather than do so I’d bare by breast to the brutes 


A SON OF CAROLINA 355 

and order them to club or shoot me ! ’ ’ he ended 
abruptly. 

‘‘Then you wonT go without ineT’ There 
was a new note in Gypta^s voice, a tremulous 
note of joy in the midst of terror. He had re- 
fused to leave her. She swayed a little and trem- 
bled. The great humiliation and resignation of 
her love had to an extent put away the tumult 
of emotion, aspiration, and desire. But this 
manifestation of solicitude filled her with joy; 
her lips, her eyes, her whole frame seemed sud- 
denly to grow instinct and vibrate with passion. 
For the time she had become unconscious of the 
murderous mob with their clicking guns and 
swinging clubs, and she ceased to feel the scorch- 
ing breath of the increasing flames. All was for- 
gotten save that Barron was near her and had 
said he would not leave her. But for an instant 
was she held under this spell of enchantment. 
The tiny stream of blood born far back beneath 
the palms and tropical suns leaped over the cen- 
turies with its inherent demands, yet pulsed but 
briefly. All in a moment she recovered her dar- 
ing dignit}^, and resolute courage, as her bril- 
liant face grew pallid and tense, and her eyes 
rested anxiously on Barron. 

‘ ‘ It doesn T matter about me ! Go ! Go ! ’ ’ she 
cried with emphasis of command. 

Barron stood and watched, awed by her di- 
rectness of purpose, her willingness to sacrifice 
her life for him, and a sense of eternal, infinite. 


856 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


and overwhelming debt came upon him with a 
shock that startled him with its vastness. 

^ ^ Gypta, I swear I will not go without you ! ' ’ 

She put out her hand to him. 

^^Then come, I will go with you; we will go 
together. ’ ’ 

They emerged from their hiding-place and 
safely reached an adjoining avenue, tall and 
dense as a wall. 

‘‘This way,’^ Gypta whispered with a hopeful 
ring in her voice. 

“Yes, yes!’’ he exclaimed. You forget I 
know every inch of these grounds. ’ ’ Had he not 
run through them thousands of times when a 
light-hearted boy, and as a youth ridden over 
them, and trodden through them! Every tree 
or shrub was full of memories, yet he wasted not 
a moment in recalling or dwelling on them. 

“You are a wonderful pilot, Gypta. AYe are 
now in a path in the park, whose course branches 
off to the mimosa thicket. Truly we’re fortu- 
nate. It is all due to you, Gypta, ’ ’ he said in a 
low, kindly tone. 

“Yes, you are safe, safe; thank Jesus and the 
Holy Virgin ! ’ ’ she exclaimed, clapping her hands 
in a sort of fierce ecstasy. 

Scarcely had these words been spoken than 
she turned round as though in obedience to some 
mechanical impulse, and faced Baxter, who re- 
garded her with terror stricken eyes. 

“Gypta! Gypta!” he cried after a moment’s 
pause, “listen!” 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


357 


There was an instant of silence. Then over 
the grounds came voices raised in consternation, 
shouting, and incoherent curses. 

‘^Look yonder ! I see er head bobbin’ through 
de park, I sw’ar I do. Fools, is yo’ gwine let 
’em git erwayl Run an’ s’arch fur ’em! If he 
gits away we’s done fur! S’arch till yo’ fine 
’em. Run! fools, kotch ’em! Run, shoot ’em, 
club ’em ! Run, fur Gawd’s sake kill ’em ! Run ! 
run ! ’ ’ Then with one yell of wild brute ferocity 
they crashed headlong in a cursing, shrieking, 
sweltering swarm, grinding through the bushes 
toward them. 

Great God! we are seen! Gypta, they are 
after us ! Come, let me hide you. I can defend 
myself. It doesn ’t matter about me, I can man- 
age a dozen or more of them with this revolver. 
Come, be quick!” Barron started toward her, 
his arms outstretched, his whole frame convulsed 
and quivering. 

‘‘Here is just the place to hide, under this 
cedar ; see how dense the foliage is. Get in there 
quick, Gypta — the lapping limbs are so thick you 
will be absolutely safe,” and he held apart the 
spiral, fringed branches. 

Gypta looked at him with bewildered eyes and 
shook her head. 

‘ ‘ No ! I will not hide ; whatever fate you meet, 
the same shall be mine. ’ ’ 

“I’ll not permit it; I’ll not have you seen by 
those brutes. Already you have risked too much. 
You must!” he cried with terrific emphasis, as 


358 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


he caught Gypta and by force would have placed 
her under cover of the tree ; but she resisted his 
hold, wrenching herself from him. 

Almost with savage ferocity she clenched her 
hand at her throat, and with hissing interroga- 
tion exclaimed: 

‘‘Do you forget they are my own people who 
want your blood? It were mercy that they kill 
me ; hut you they shall not harm ! ^ ’ 

Barron struck his breast with a cry of horror. 

‘ ‘ Have mercy and spare me that ! Oh — ^ ^ 

The sound of approaching feet with the whiz 
of random bullets left the sentence unfinished. 

As though Gypta were a little child, Barron 
lifted her in his strong arms and placed her un- 
der cover of the cedar. His voice shook with ap- 
peal as he pleaded that she would remain there 
until all was over, and though he were dying 
and called her, that she would not stir from her 
hiding-place. 

“No! No!^’ she cried, making an effort to 
hold him fast. 

He sought to free himself, but she clung to him 
with all the strength of her love. 

“Without me you shall not face them!’’ she 
repeated. 

“Gypta, for my sake do not follow me, but 
stay until I come for you!” he pleaded with a 
rush of earnestness and persuasiveness which, 
in that awful moment, as in the happiest days of 
their love, dominated her, and yielding to his en- 
treaty she slid agilely through the drooping 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


359 


boughs and crouched close about the trunk of 
the tree. With eager parting look, Barron 
sprung up and dashed from the enclosure just 
in time to meet the advance of the gang who ran 
hither and thither in search of him. 

“I heah de bushes crackle! He’s soniewhar 
hereabouts — follow me, yo’ sneakin’ cowards, 
yo’I What yo’ skeered at!” So saying, Jim 
Blodgett with a savage laugh raised his club 
menacingly, and with a bold stride plunged 
around a box-hedge border. ‘‘Follow me, yo’ 
fools, we’s on his track — ” 

“We’s heah, Capt’in!” shouted two or three 
of the gang, while the others held back, manifest- 
ly possessed of some secert fear, being well 
aware of their danger, since Barron Baxter was 
at large. 

“I ain’t gwine to run into dat white man fur 
all de Ian’ an’ cabins in de Santee Parish. 
Humph ! I ain ’ gwine be shot down same like er 
rabbit. Dat man b ’longs to de white folks dat 
can shoot er speck off de moon. I gwine mek 
b’leve I’se on de trail, but heah I is to stay till 
de s’arch is over,” suggested Jim Mobly, laying 
down his empty gun. With this precautionary 
decision, to which half of the gang acceded, they 
squatted and crouched under every available 
cover of ambush, while their more courageous 
companions followed their leader. 

“Thar’ he is!” shouted Jim Blodgett, with a 
volley of oaths, as he spied Barron a few paces 
distant. As if possessed of some superhuman 


300 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


alertness and frenzy, he grasped his club firmly 
in position, and with a wild yell of triumph 
leaped forward. 

^‘Halt, you devil!’’ cried Barron, raising his 
pistol with such accurate aim that in an instant 
the brawny black giant tossed up his arms and 
with a thud fell backward, causing the earth to 
quake. 

Leaping upon a log, Barron emptied the re- 
maining barrels of his gun in such quick suc- 
cession that the air rang with the echoing shots. 
This, with the fall of their leader, so stunned his 
comrades as not only to cause them to fall back 
as by general acclamation, but with frenzied 
haste and bursting yells they scattered in all di- 
rections, dodging and hiding and stumbling in 
terror and intimidation. 

Scarcely had the last barrel of Barron’s gun 
been emptied than the hoof-beats of advancing 
horsemen and the clatter of arms were heard, 
upon which soon followed a detachment of mili- 
tary forces from Charleston that dashed in a full 
gallop upon the mob, firing as they came. 

^VLordy! Lordyl'de soldiers is got us! Run 
to de swamp! to de swamp, to Black swamp!” 
A score or more of voices in mortal dread raised 
this cry, and then retreating feet could be heard 
pounding the earth, with the cavalry following 
close on. 

A solemn silence ensued. Replacing his pistol 
in his pocket, Barron stepped from the log. His 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


361 


first thought was of Gypta, and he started hur- 
riedly for the cedar. 

With a pang he raised his eyes to his burning 
home. The flames were now belching through 
the windows and greedily licking toward the 
roof. Isolated, this proud old mansion had de- 
fied time and revolution, and enshrined in its 
walls the unwritten history of succeeding gen- 
erations. It was now weakening beneath the 
torch of the incendiary. 

The breezes that had so long caressed its hoary 
walls and arches and flung upon them a libation 
of their balmy breath, now as if in treachery 
caught the bannerets of flame and danced and 
frolicked with them in their destructive speed. 
The saline winds from the sea, that in the years 
had dealt so kindly with the grand old pile, now 
madly wrapped about it sheets of fire from cellar 
to dome, bellowing and writliing in its triumph 
of ruin. 

‘‘The winds have changed their course and 
now they are blowing hot and straight from the 
East. Only a matter of a few hours and there 
will be but a heap of ashes to mark what has 
been my pride, my glory since I was born. My 
home, oh, God ! But if Gypta is safe I can bear 
all with calm and resignation. ’ ’ 

With this thought he hastened on as he pic- 
tured that young creature in all the glorious per- 
fection of health and stength, she who had 
scarcely known physical ache or pain, now un- 
nerved and exhausted, lying there with her soft 


362 A SON OF CAROLINA 

skin lacerated and bruised with thorns and 
briars. 

‘ ^ Had it not been for her, ’ ^ he said aloud, 
now be charring in yonder fire. Oh ! it ’s hard, ^ ’ 
he thought as he realized his impotence to follow 
or reach or do anything to aid that martyred life 
which had been swept out of the orbit of his 
power to rescue. 

‘ ‘ If I could only save her, and repay one mil- 
lionth part of the debt I owe her! Yet there is 
no way to make her other than she is. No way, 
no way ! All I can do after receiving my life at 
her hands is to look into those eyes with their 
appealing worship and simply say, ‘I am grate- 
ful, thank you! Good-by.’ Humph! I’d better 
be left to the mercy of the brutes than endure 
this. ’ ’ 

With these thoughts that moved through his 
mind with flashlight rapidity, Barron made his 
way quickly to the place of Gypta’s conceal- 
ment. 

^ ‘ Come, Gypta ! ” he called brightly. ‘ ^ All is 
quiet now; the brutes are being followed by the 
soldiers. We are both safe, thank God ! 

‘ ‘ Come, let me help you, bravest girl that ever 
lived; heroine of all heroines, come!” and he 
parted the long trailing cedar boughs and 
stooped over Gypta, who lay motionless beneath 
the deep shadow of the tree. 

‘‘Gypta! ’Pon my word, I believe she is 
asleep. Poor, jjoor girl, no wonder she sleeps 
after all she has endured. Gypta, why do you 


A SON OF CAROLINA 363 

not awake and answer meT’ and he shook her 
gently. 

A sudden fear seized him. The burning house 
now illumined the grounds like a ray of sun- 
burst, and in the red terror Barron saw a death- 
like pallor on her face, and her eyes without 
sight or sense were fixed in a glassy stare, while 
her lips were parted and motionless. Quickly 
his hand sought her pulse, that feebly throbbed, 
and her heart at long intervals pounded convul- 
sively. 

Supposing she had only fainted from the close- 
ness and heat of the thick boughs, and believing 
it was but fresh air she needed to revive her, 
Barron took her in his arms and sought a spot 
far from the increasing heat and flying cinders. 
Here he made a bed of moss that he hurriedly 
tore from the limbs of the water-oaks near by. 
Over this he spread his robe, a soft, luxurious, 
silk-padded garment. Then tenderly and care- 
fully as a mother would put to rest her sleeping 
babe, he raised Gypta from the ground and laid 
her upon this rude bed. After vigorously rub- 
bing her hands and brow, she opened wide her 
eyes with a spasm of pain, and looked up ques- 
tioningly as her lips moved in an etfort to speak. 

‘‘What is it, Gypta I What would you say I 
Ah! you will bo well now! Why, you only 
fainted, and here you are on a nice, soft bed. 
You are better now I Are you not better, 
Gypta! Why, yes, I see your eyes are brighter ; 
and— and— Oh, God!'’ he moaned, and a terror 


364 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


seized him as he saw through a hole at her breast 
drops of blood were slowly oozing. 

By this he knew it was no transient spell of 
faintness, but that Gypta was the innocent vic- 
tim of a random shot that had reached her 
througli the interlacing boughs, and the wound 
was possibly fatal. What should he do? Whither 
go? Lifting his head, he stared wonderingly 
around him. Not a living creature was visible 
in the blazing area of the grounds. Surely no 
assistance could be found there; and yet he 
dared not leave her to summon aid, lest some of 
the negro mob during the conflict might have 
sought concealment in the park and were in am- 
bush near by. 

Gypta watched him as if knowing each pang 
that moved him. 

‘‘Do not leave me,^^ she murmured; “only 
wait and watch — a little while. ’ ’ 

Baxter ^s etfort at self-mastery could not last. 
For her sake he had called to his aid all the 
strength and fortitude of his nature ; but as he 
saw those mournful eyes fixed on him with their 
wild delirious pain and yearning, yet with no 
shadow of reproach, he caught her hands close 
in his own, and his voice broke in a swift torrent 
of words. 

“Have pity, Gypta, and say you do not blame 
me. I would willingly, yes, gladly, give my life 
for you. At this moment I would die for you. 
Gypta, you know I would. I do not ask forgive- 
ness. God knows IVe never had an unjust 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


365 


thought or wrong intention toward you; but I 
do ask that by word or sign you tell me I do not 
live under your dying condemnation — Gypta, 
Gypta, tell me so F ’ 

As if to calm the tempest of his despair, 
Gypta fixed her wistful gaze upon Baxter and 
smiled through her sufferings. Her voice sunk 
to a low, quivering moan. 

‘‘Barron, love cannot condemn. I do not 
blame you for being true to — your blood and 
your people. I go in peace since you are saved. 
Hold my hand. Keep it close. Don ^t leave me. 
It won ’t be long. I feel — I know — this is death ! 
Barron — death She emphasized the words 
with widening eyes upon Barron, who bowed still 
lower, as his limbs trembled, and his face and 
hands became cold and clammy with the terror 
of it all. 

‘ ‘ God and the angels keep, love, and bless you, 
Gypta! Oh! God, have mercy, have mercy!’’ 
was his moan, again, again and again. 

With a certain pathetic bewilderment, Gypta 
looked up, as with an etfort to speak. 

“What is it you would tell me, Gypta 1 Whis- 
per, I can hear,” and Barron placed his ear 
close against the beautiful lips that parted with 
the rise and fall of the panting breath. 

Slowly and at long intervals the words came : 

“Listen. This is — the word of God: ‘The — 
creature — shall he — delivered from the — hond- 
age of — corruption into — into the glorious — 


366 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


spirit of Life, in — in — J esus Christ!^ Oh, if this 
be so, if — man’s — curse that — is — upon — me will 
die in the — flesh — and — in the Spirit — I shall 
be — made — pure, if that be so — come to me, Bar- 
ron. I’ll await you there, in — that — spirit — 
land; but — if — the — curse trails — its — course 
from this — mortal — body on — on — on — 
then, oh! Barron, we — are apart — for — for — 
eternity . Here she paused with a struggle, her 
breast heaved violently, and her eyes dilated 
with pain. ‘Hf — if — if — ” she groaned, with an 
expression of doubt and terror. 

With an effort to reach out her arms, a wound- 
ed, despairing cry broke through her lips. 

‘ ^ My crucifix ! Give me my crucifix ! ’ ’ 

Quickly Barron groped at Gypta’s throat, 
hoping to find her rosary ; but it was not on her 
person, and he looked about him in the anguish 
of absolute helplessness, while Gypta’s eyes fol- 
lowed him full of mournful longing and mute 
appeal. 

With a struggle she whispered : 

‘‘A cross.” 

Swift as the thought suggested by these words, 
he put out his hand and snapped from an over- 
hanging vine two twigs, which he crossed and 
bound together by a wisp of moss. 

This he placed against her lips very gently, 
then raised it before her eyes and held it there 
for a time. 

A faint sigh of joy escaped her, and an infinite 
and spiritual light suffused her face with tran- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


367 


scendent beauty, the triumph of hope and faith 
and perfect peace ; and as he laid the cross upon 
her breast, clasping her hands upon it, a joyous 
adoring expression flooded her eyes raised to 
him, which in an instant closed languidly. 

Breathless and bewildered, and lifted for the 
moment to heights of transport, Barron watched 
her as one who sees the infinite. What strange 
miracle was accomplished by that rude little 
cross, that in a moment had exorcised all traces 
of pain and doubt, bringing in its stead the 
sweetest calm and the fulness of perfect peace ! 

There he sat in devout silence. The cries and 
shouts of the crowd about the burning house 
were stilled, and in his lonely vigil it seemed to 
Barron as if all nature had paused. 

As he watched the tumultuous rise and fall of 
her bosom, the gradual increasing pallor of her 
face, he knew beyond the possibility of hope that 
the spirit was drifting beyond through the long, 
bright aeons of endless glory. 

This he realized with most consuming grief, 
and though his heart was thus wrenched with 
every imaginable phase of suffering, yet he 
thanked God that remorse was powerless to fas- 
ten its fangs upon him, or dishonor to cause him 
to bow his head in shame. 

With Gypta’s hand in his, he could meet her 
dying gaze with the full consciousness that he 
had acted in obedience to the laws of God and in 
accordance with the noblest, purest instincts 


368 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


that animate every true American and Anglo- 
Saxon. 

Instinctively Barron’s eyes turned toward the 
family vault near by. Invulnerable, its walls 
had guarded the dust of his ancestors for many 
succeeding generations, and upon the massive 
door was a name as pure and untarnished as the 
marble cross that pointed above into the lurid 
night in bars of translucent crystal. The thought 
suggested by this acted to Barron as a styptic, 
and in a measure cauterized his sufferings. 

For an hour or more, in a dull apathy he 
bowed over Oypta, awaiting the end, as if 
afraid to stir, lest he should break the holy si- 
lence. So absorbed was he in his sacred vigil 
that he scarcely heeded the dazzling panorama 
that everywhere surrounded him. 

In the centre of the vast area was the stately 
mansion with its yawning stone walls gaping 
open as if to give the struggling flames within it 
rapid egress, while about the dazzling columns 
vipers of flame climbed lithely round and round 
in gleeful frolic with the swirling sparks and 
cinders. The blossom- studded avenues seemed 
whirling in crimson flame, and the century- 
rooted oaks swung from their sprawling 
branches billows of moss that as if through the 
magic of some celestial alchemy swept the winds 
in a maze of shining threads and glittering tap- 
estry. 

Far beyond the scorching terrace, on a rising 
plain, the headless man stood, gaunt and grue- 


A SON OF CAROLINA 


369 


some in his coming doom. As the hot sparks 
spangled liis resinous body with its harvest of 
bullets, drops of amber oozed at every pore. 

Suddenly, as though the thunders of heaven 
had descended with a thudding burst, the earth 
quaked and reverberated as the walls of the 
mansion rocked to and fro and the stately vault- 
ed roof fell in. A moment’s eclipse followed, 
with an outpour of maddened flames and sparks, 
when simultaneously to this final destruction of 
the grandeur and glory of Magnolia Hall, Gyp- 
ta’s voice, like a melodious requiem, seemed to 
strike a passage through the air, reaching to the 
portals of heaven : 

‘‘My love! Barron, Barron!” she called as 
her eyes closed and her pure, spotless soul floated 
out somewhere in the starry waste and the white 
hush of eternity. 

“Dead! dead! dead! Gypta dead!” Barron 
moaned, his voice of heart-break dying in a sob 
that sent desolate echoes far out on the night as 
he sank still lower to the earth, with eyes riveted 
on the pallid face of the woman who had given 
her life for him. 

The ruddy glare from the burning house be- 
gan to shroud her in radiance, turning her hair 
into an aureole of glory and the jessamine cross 
on her breast into a cross of purest gold. 

The End, 


H 


1 86 


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